The Young Stag
by kornerbrandon
Summary: Steffon Baratheon, trueborn son of Robert and Cersei Baratheon, is the odd child out. His black hair and blue eyes mark him out among his siblings. As the Seven Kingdoms spiral into chaos, Steffon is forced to become a leader. Arya/OC. Show-centric. Rated M because you know, Game of Thrones.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so welcome to my first Game of Thrones story. Recently, I've been reading a lot of stories which feature a legitimate son of Robert and Cersei, and the thought's always intrigued me, so I decided to have a pop at one myself.**

 **As for the name of their son, I've chosen Steffon. This is because I always got the impression that despite his many failings, Robert was fond of his father and did dearly miss him after his father's ship was sunk by a storm at Shipbreaker Bay within sight of Storm's End.**

 **Also, because I'm not fond of overly perfect characters, I'm deliberately making Steffon a competent, but not brilliant fighter. Instead, I'm going to make him more of a commander than a fighter; though this may be because I've always felt that smarts beat brute force.**

 **Anyway, here are the ages. I've aged some of them up or down for the purposes of this story:**

 **Robb, Theon, Jon-17**

 **Joffrey-16**

 **Steffon and Sansa-15**

 **Arya and Myrcella-14 (mainly to reduce the squick with Steffon and Arya)**

 **Bran and Tommen-12**

 **Shireen-9**

 **Rickon-7**

Steffon Baratheon breathed in the crisp, cold Northern air. Despite having never been to the North before, he was already liking it. He wasn't that fond of the heat of the south.

It had been a month since House Baratheon of King's Landing had begun their long journey northwards, ever since the death of the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. Lord Arryn's death had always troubled Steffon, mainly because Arryn had been in perfect health before he suddenly took ill and died. Steffon had always had always been smart (some would say too smart for his own good), and had spent some time analysing Jon Arryn's death, and had come to what he thought was the only logical conclusion: Jon Arryn had been murdered. By whom, he couldn't say, but it troubled him nonetheless.

What disturbed him even more was that his uncle Stannis had fled King's Landing soon after Jon's death. Stannis was _never_ one to run from a fight. This troubled Steffon greatly.

Still, it would do him no good to be focussing on his troubles now. He was in the North, the largest of the Seven Kingdoms. _What a beautiful place it is too_ , thought Steffon. There was none of that ridiculous, over-the-top decoration that seemed so popular in the south. No, it was simple and elegant. This, was nature at its finest.

"Steffon, are you still there, boy?" Asked his father, snapping him out of his thoughts. The two were riding at the head of the royal column.

"Yes, father."

"Good, I'd thought your mind had gone wandering again." Said Robert. It was true, Steffon had always been a bit of a daydreamer. It was the one flaw he allowed himself. Well, that and his average-at-best swordsmanship.

When Steffon was growing up, many commented on his uncanny resemblance to Robert when he was young, save for the fact that Steffon was always clean-shaven. His resemblance to his father became even more apparent when compared to his siblings. While Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella all had blonde hair, Steffon's hair was as black as the night itself. He had also shown a marked preference for Baratheon equipment, while Joffrey seemed to prefer Lannister. Steffon was also always seen wearing some form of armour. Even now, he was wearing Baratheon-style padded armour **(just think of it as a dark beige colour with the Baratheon sigil in the centre)** with a Baratheon cape fluttering from his back. The padded armour helped with the North's cold climate that was for sure.

"My mind would go wandering father; we've been riding for a month."

"Yes well, we'd have reached Winterfell sooner if your mother didn't insist on bringing that damned Wheelhouse with us. Then there's your older brother; he's the Crown Prince! He should be riding! But no, he stays in that wheelhouse with his mother."

Steffon's face slightly darkened at the mention of Joffrey. He and his brother had never really gotten along. It had started when Steffon was 8 and Joffrey was 9. Steffon had been running around in the Red Keep's courtyard, playing with a wooden sword he had recently been given by his uncle Stannis for his 8th nameday. Steffon had been pretending he was his father during the Rebellion, killing Rhaegar Targaryen and winning the Rebellion, before Joffrey had shoved him to the ground, telling him he would be the King and Steffon would be nothing his whole life.

It was the one time Steffon had truly cried.

Ever since then, the two had never gotten along. Steffon had spent more time around Robert and Stannis, while Joffrey usually was seen with their mother. Steffon's time spent with Stannis proved to be well-founded too. Thanks to Stannis' influence, Steffon became a rather skilled tactician and strategist. He longed to test his skills so much, he'd once tried to sneak out of the Red Keep and find a ship for Essos, and join one of the constantly warring Free Cities. He'd almost escaped the Keep . . . before he was found by Barristan Selmy. His mother had scolded him for worrying her; his father had merely laughed; Renly had so likewise; and Stannis had pulled him aside to give him a lecture about duty and responsibility.

 _CRRRAAACCCKKKK_

 _Oh damn that wheelhouse to all the Seven Hells._ Thought Steffon. One of the wheels had broken off. Again. Gods, even his mother and sibling had to be getting sick of that thing now, surely. Steffon dismounted his horse and went to help change the wheel.

After 30 minutes of fluffing about, the column was on the move again. Soon enough, Winterfell was in sight. Steffon couldn't help but marvel at the grand structures that made up the Stark ancestral home. This was the first time since he'd been in the North that he truly felt the presence of the First Men; he could see it in the buildings. Again, like every other building in the North; there was nothing fancy about it. Although a lot of effort had clearly gone into building it, he could see that other than the handful of Direwolf banners that fluttered from the walls, there was almost no decoration on the buildings.

Joffrey by now had left the wheelhouse and mounted a horse to ride in to Winterfell. He rode ahead of Steffon, as he was the Crown Prince and Steffon wasn't.

* * *

They rode through the gates of Winterfell and up to where the Starks were waiting to receive them. In this moment, Steffon noticed that a girl with auburn hair smiling shyly at Joffrey. _Oh great, another person for my brother to torture_ , he thought. Robert dismounted his horse and walked up to Eddard Stark, his old friend. The two stared at each other for a few moments, before Robert spoke up.

"You got fat" he said. _Father can't exactly talk about weight_ , Steffon thought. Eddard looked pointedly at Robert's stomach, as if returning what Robert had said. The two stared intensely at each other for a few more seconds, before they both broke out into a laugh. Steffon couldn't help himself and chuckled lightly.

"9 years. I haven't seen you, where the hell have you been?" Asked Robert.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." Replied Ned, smiling.

While his father conversed with the other Starks, Steffon began surveying them. It was habit of his when meeting people for the first time. On the far right of the Stark family seemed to be their youngest child, what his name was, Steffon couldn't put his finger on. Looking to his left, he saw the remaining Starks.

His eyes first landed on the eldest of the Stark children. Robb, Steffon thought his name was. Robb was tall, broad-shouldered and seemed to have an aura of leadership around him. Steffon came to the conclusion that the heir to Winterfell would become a great man in the future.

Looking further down the line, he noticed the auburn-haired girl again. She'd clearly inherited her mother's Tully looks. Steffon knew almost instantly that she was what could be termed classically beautiful, but she seemed too naïve; too perfect.

Looking further to the left, he saw a girl who looked to be no older than 12. She'd inherited her father's distinctive Stark looks, and Steffon got the feeling he'd seen her before. _She was the short one wearing the helmet at the gate, you dolt_ he thought. Straight away, he could tell that she wasn't a typical noble lady. It seemed to draw him to her.

His impression of the last Stark was one of mystery. The boy seemed to be like every other, but there seemed to be something more to him than met the eye. He'd have to keep his eye on that one.

"Ned, take me to your crypts. I want to pay my respects." Said Robert, breaking Steffon's train of thought. It was Lyanna he was talking about. Naturally. He talked of her often, and Steffon frequently tired of hearing it.

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." Cersei said coldly. Robert and Ned left anyway. Cersei sent Steffon's uncle, Jaime Lannister, off to find his other uncle, Tyrion.

Steffon had always gotten along with Tyrion. From what he knew of the Lannisters, he gathered Tyrion was the figurative black sheep of the family. Hated by his father Tywin and his sister Cersei alike, Steffon and Tyrion, having both endured the hatred of siblings, seemed to be kindred spirits. Indeed, it showed; Tyrion was the one Lannister he always made time for.

He turned towards Catelyn Stark, Ned's wife. "Well, Lady Stark, are you not going to introduce me and siblings?" He said, gesturing to Myrcella and Tommen. Joffrey gave a slight glare, but immediately went back to smiling when Sansa was looking at him again.

"Of course, my Prince." Said Catelyn, with immaculate politeness. She turned to the child next to her.

"This is my youngest son, Rickon. He's only 7 years old." She said. Rickon looked up at the person that was called the Young Stag shyly. Steffon, seeing that the lad was clearly out of his depth, gently ruffled his hair, just as his father had done.

"This is my eldest, Robb." Cat said, gesturing towards the future Lord of Winterfell.

"A pleasure, my Prince." Said Robb.

"Call me Steffon, please." He replied.

"Very well then Steffon." Said Robb, half-smiling. Steffon returned the half-smile, feeling that could become good friends with this man.

"Our elder daughter Sansa. Sansa, show these three some attention!" Said Cat, momentarily diverting Sansa's attention from Joffrey long enough to say a quick hello. Steffon quickly moved on.

"Our younger daughter Arya." Said Cat.

"How old are you, My Lady? 12?" He asked.

"14. And I'm not a Lady." Arya replied. _She's feisty, this one_ he thought. He smiled down at her, while Cat rolled her eyes in exasperation. Myrcella and Tommen merely giggled.

"And last but not least, our middle son, Brandon. He prefers to be called Bran though." Cat said. Steffon made quick introductions of himself and Tommen, but Myrcella's was a bit more drawn out. She blushed when Bran kissed her hand. Although Bran was merely observing a courtesy (Robb had done the same about 30 seconds ago), Myrcella was going redder by the second. Cat and Steffon merely nodded at each other and separated the two (both would cop an earful for it later). As Steffon peered past the Starks, he noticed a person who looked strikingly similar to Ned. He turned to Cat.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"Jon Snow. Ned's bastard son." She responded, somewhat coldly.

"I wish to speak with him."

"My Prince, it would not be appropriate for-" Catelyn began to protest, before Steffon cut her off.

"Oh bugger that nonsense. We're all equal, aren't we?" Said Steffon. Reluctantly, Catelyn motioned for Jon to step forward and shake the Prince's hand.

"My Prince." Said Jon, clearly uncomfortable with Catelyn beside him. The Lady of Winterfell had already made little secret of her disdain for Jon.

"Please, call me Steffon." He said, grabbing Jon's hand and shaking it. He was then introduced to Theon Greyjoy, the heir to Pyke. As the party began to disperse, Robb and Theon walked over to him.

"Steffon, we thought we'd give you the tour of Winterfell." Said Robb.

"Thank you, Robb. Oh, will Jon be joining us?" Steffon asked.

"I'm just a bastard, my Prince" Said Jon, with the same grim look on his face.

"Perhaps, but my half-brother Edric is a bastard too. It makes little difference to me." Said Steffon. Jon was taken slightly aback; he hadn't expected this sort of thinking from a Prince of Westeros, let alone someone related to Joffrey. Jon made to join them, and the three began showing the Prince around Winterfell.

"You'll like Winterfell, Steffon."

"I already do, Robb. It's a lot simpler than the south, that's for sure."

"The girls are better up here too. If you like redheads, go to the tavern and ask for-" Theon began, before being cut off by Steffon.

"I'll have to stop you there Theon. I do love my father, but the whoring and drinking is where I draw the line." Said Steffon, with a note of finality. "So, where to first?"

"Do you like history?" Asked Jon.

"Yes, very much so." Steffon replied. Jon and Robb nodded at each other.

"Then first stop is the First Keep. Come on then." Said Robb. The four began walking towards the First Keep. _I'm already liking this place,_ Steffon thought.

 **And there you have it! The first ever chapter of my first ever Game of Thrones story. I hoped you all liked it. This story will be set largely in the TV universe, so that means we get Yara Greyjoy and Talisa Maegyr over Asha and Jayne Westerling. Sorry guys.**

 **Some minor plot elements will be taken from the books, but most of them will have little to no bearing on the direction the story takes.**

 **As for Steffon's looks, I imagine him looking like Ender's Game actor Asa Butterfield. SO yeah, you know who to imagine him as if you need to.**

 **Anyway, I'd better go before my rambling gets out of control. Auf wiedersehen folks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so welcome to chapter 2. I've been blown away with the response to the first chapter, and that people liked it so much. So I'm feeling so generous that I had to write chapter as soon as I could.**

 **I should mention as well, because I have other plans for Jon, most of the story at the Wall will be told through Gendry. I'm sending him to the Wall much earlier than in canon, mainly because the happenings at Castle Black are bloody important in the series' ultimate context. To this end, Gendry will be much more prominent here than in canon. Unfortunately because of this, there will be minimal interaction between him and Arya. Sorry everyone.**

 **One thing I did receive positive feedback about was making Steffon a middling warrior at best, while making him a naturally skilled commander instead. I will state that this is largely sue to Stannis' influence. It's frequently stated in both the books and the show that Stannis is a skilled commander, probably best exemplified in the final episode of season 4 when he catches Mance Rayder's Wildling army in a pincer movement. This is also because as the reviewer Michael pointed out, swordsmen like Barristan Selmy or Arthur Dayne are exceedingly rare.**

 **The other reason for this is because while Steffon does care for his father, he sees what his father for what he has become, rather than romanticizing him. He's afraid of becoming like his father, which leads him to focus more on commanding troops than actually fighting. One thing Michael also pointed out was that Tywin does best when commanding an army, but I can extrapolate a bit. While it's a bit subtler in the books, the TV show makes a point of Tywin being surrounded almost completely by incompetents and fools, save for Kevan and Tyrion. In fact, I'd say that those three are pretty much the only sane men on the Lannister side. Jaime was little more than a swordsman (and he has an honourable streak he won't admit), Cersei is so stupid she pretty much turned the entire country against her, and Joffrey is, well, Joffrey.**

 **I should mention as well that the impending romance between Steffon and Arya (the hint's in the title) will be one of the main focuses of the entire story, hence why I selected it as one of the genres.**

 **But anyway, moving on the story now!**

The courtyard at Winterfell was dominated by the sound of clashing steel, as Robb and Steffon tried to outfight each other with the dull practice swords. Arya, who was observing the fight from the bridge between the Great Keep and the Armoury, viewed it with great interest. For her vantage point, she could see that Steffon, while competent, was nowhere near as good as Robb. Indeed, he was only able to barely block or parry Robb's attacks. Suddenly, Steffon dived into a vicious overhead strike, which Robb deftly parried before sidestepping out of the Prince's road and bringing the edge of the blade onto the Prince's back, knocking him to the ground.

"Looks like you're not as skilled as some people would have us believe, Steffon" Said Robb, grinning.

"I told you, I'm an average fighter at best. I'd like to fight Jon though, see how good he is." Steffon replied. _Oh this should be good_ thought Arya. Jon was Winterfell's best sword; everyone in the North knew that.

"My Prince, it would not be appropriate for you to spar with a bastard." Said Ser Rodrik Cassel, Castellan of Winterfell.

"Oh bollocks to that, let him spar." Said Steffon. Sansa, who had crept up beside her to watch as well, covered her mouth in shock at hearing the Prince say something like that. Arya on the other hand, giggled.

Ser Rodrik handed Jon a sword. Steffon and Jon began circling each other, before Steffon leapt into an attack. Almost effortlessly, Jon sidestepped the attack and like Robb had done, slammed his sword into Steffon's back, again knocking him to the ground. Jon offered his hand, pulling Steffon up.

"You just dive into your attack, Steffon. You try to put too much force into it. Try to focus on attacking quickly; don't wind up too much. Speed often defeats size. Focus on fast, well-placed attacks instead of throwing too much force behind it." Said Jon, giving a rare smile.

"Thank you Jon. I'll try to remember that." Steffon replied, smiling again. Joffrey had up until now been watching from the sidelines, but now he walked forward, his characteristic smug smirk planted on his face.

"You've never been a good fighter Steffon. You know that." He said, smugly.

"I can still outfight you, brother." Steffon said, almost mockingly. Robb and Jon exchanged looks, while Arya had opened her mouth slightly. How could two brothers hate each other so much?

Rodrik offered a dulled sword to Joffrey, who snatched it out of Rodrik's hand. He assumed a fairly sloppy stance, while Steffon moved into a proper fighting stance. Joffrey then made the same mistake Steffon did; trying to put too much force into an attack. Steffon parried the blow, sidestepped and bringing the sword down onto Joffrey's back. It was an almost exact mirror image what had happened just minutes ago; except it was Steffon who was offering his hand to Joffrey and not someone else offering their hand to Steffon. Ungratefully, Joffrey slapped Steffon's hand aside and stood up, disdainfully throwing the practice sword to the ground.

"Ser Rodrik, I tire if playing with toy swords. We will use live steel for the second fight." Said Joffrey, smiling sadistically.

Rodrik shook his head "Absolutely not; it's far too dangerous and neither of you are particularly accomplished swordsmen. One of you could end up badly injured or worse." Said Rodrik, with a tone that said 'that's final'. Joffrey, not willing to try his luck further, stormed out of the courtyard in a huff.

"Do either of you know where Theon is?" Asked Steffon.

"He's probably with the whores at the inn. No reason to disturb him." Said Robb. Steffon made a mock look of disdain that got laughs from both Robb and Jon, something that left Steffon immensely satisfied. He said his goodbyes for now; he wanted to get organised for the feast after sundown.

"What a brute." Said Sansa. "He's nothing like Joffrey. He's to afraid to fight him with a proper sword and he's not even that skilled with a sword." She went on. Arya rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Joffrey still lost their fight." She replied.

"Joffrey's the Crown Prince. He's got more important things to worry about. Now if you'll excuse me . . ." Said Sansa, rudely shoving past Arya, who again rolled her eyes before looking down at the courtyard again. Robb and Jon were busy fighting, while Steffon had wandered off. She settled in to watch her brothers fight.

* * *

On the way back to his chambers, Steffon came across young Bran, who was climbing down from one of the battlements.

"Hello, Bran. What are you doing climbing?" Steffon asked.

"Well I like climbing." Bran replied.

"And didn't your mother tell you not to?" Steffon asked, rhetorically. Bran looked at the ground, his direwolf looking up at him, cocking his head to one side. "Bran, you need to listen your mother." Said Steffon, kneeling down to Bran's height. "Hey, look at me, Bran." He said. Bran lifted his head. "If you can promise me no more climbing, then I-Ser Barristan, just the man I wanted to see!" Steffon said.

"Your mother had sent me to find you." Ser Barristan said.

"No doubt to scold me for mocking Joffrey." Steffon replied. Ser Barristan did not offer any sort of reply, but is normally nonplussed expression flatered for just a fraction of a second at that. "Say, Ser Barristan, do you beleive that Bran here has the potential to be a knight?" he asked.

"Beyond a doubt. " Barristan said warmly.

"And would you take him as a squire?"

"I'd be honoured to train any son of Eddard Stark"

"So be it then. Bran if you can promise me no more climbing, then Ser Barristan here will take you as his squire, and train you to be a knight. What do you say to that?" Steffon asked. Both he and Barristan could tell that it was taking enormous restraint for Bran to contain himself.

"Okay, I won't climb anymore." Said Bran, before running off exictedly, his direwolf following him.

"I think you just made the boy's day." Said Barristan.

"I hope so. He'd make a fine knight." Steffon replied. Barristan silently agreed. A son of Eddard Stark would've undoubtedly inherited his personality traits.

The day was pretty much over after that. Well, after a short scolding from his mother, it was. Steffon retired to his room to prepare for the feast. He'd been instructed by both his parents not to wear his padded armour, and despite a minor argument, he eventually submitted and decided to wear a doublet with the Baratheon sigil embroidered on it and trousers. It was simple and would undoubtedly leave his mother unimpressed, but Steffon didn't care

Soon enough, it was time. Taking one last opportunity to look over himself, he adjusted his doublet and left his chambers. _Well, here goes nothing_ he thought.

 **And there's the end of the chapter. I know canonically that the sparring took place the morning after the feast, but in terms of the story, I thought that it would serve me better here.**

 **As for the interaction between Steffon, Bran and Barristan, it just came to me off the top of my head. Barristan always seemed to strike me as a sort of fatherly figure, and we saw on the show that he had great respect for the Starks. In my mind, he'd willingly train any one of Ned's sons.**

 **So, the feast is next up and then the trouble on the Kingsroad. Auf widersehen, folks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all, and welcome to chapter 3! I'm having so much fun writing this story, so I always feel the need to update. I'm also glad people are responding to Steffon as a character well. I'll admit, I was a bit skeptical of my own character, but he seems to have won people over.**

 **I should mention as well that it won't all be smooth sailing for Steffon and his allies though. We all know that Tywin isn't a man who goes down easily, and he knows that Steffon won't be easy to manipulate, especially given his relationship with Joffrey. What's more is that Steffon WILL come out second best during some of the battles in the war. We have to remember that for his skill at command, he is still just a teenager and inexperienced in battle.**

 **But anyway, here we have the feast and the morning after. We're picking up almost immediately where chapter 2 left off So please enjoy!**

As Steffon wandered across the courtyard to Winterfell's Great Hall in preparation for the feast the Starks were hosting, he noticed that both his mother and father seemed to be getting everyone organised. This surprised him; normally they rarely cooperated, but it seemed they were making an effort to line up both their own children and the Starks too. He noticed Sansa holding Joffrey's arm, still making goo-goo eyes at him, and a very unhappy-looking Arya who had somehow been forced into a dress, even though Steffon could tell she hated it.

"Steffon, you'll be escorting in Arya." Said Robert. Tentatively, Steffon offered Arya his arm. She refused at first, but after some scolding from Septa Mordane (who was also there), she reluctantly took his arm. Behind them, Bran was to escort Myrcella in and the she had already taken his arm, quite eagerly too. Cersei had noticed this and frowned. She did not want her beautiful golden-haired daughter falling for a barbaric Northern boy. She had approved of Sansa though. The poor girl was so naive it was almost painful. She'd be far too easy to manipulate.

As Robert and Cersei led the small party in Robb, who was already seated, noticed (with a grin on his face of course) that Arya was looking rightly miffed at having to be escorted by the Crown Prince's younger brother. Steffon for his part, was afraid that Arya might break his arm at any given moment. The two eventually found out (much to their joint horror) that they had been seated next to each other. They reluctantly sat down, consciously avoiding each others' gaze as they began to eat. Steffon got tired of the awkwardness quickly, and decided to strike up a conversation.

"You and your sister don't seem to get along much" He said nervously.

"I hate her. She's been nothing but mean to me. The same goes for her friend Jeyne Poole" Arya responded. Just as the awkwardness threatened to set in again, Arya had a great idea. "Down that whole cup of wine in one go. No spilling or stopping." She said, smirking.

"Oh you're on, wolf!" He said, before grabbing his cup and successfully downing it in one go, without spilling or stopping. He set the cup down, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and grinning at Arya. "Alright, my turn. I bet you can't hit your sister from here . . . using your spoon as a catapult" He dared her. Arya promptly picked up her spoon, put a slab of meat on it, and flicked it. The slab flew straight and true . . . right onto Sansa's cheek.

"ARYA!" Sansa exclaimed. Catelyn thought about sending Robb to take Arya out of the Hall and send her off to bed early, but decided against it. She was getting along well with the Baratheon boy. Why ruin something when it was going well?

Steffon meanwhile, feeling slightly sick from his sculling of the wine, decided to step outside, where he found Tyrion and Jon conversing. He decided to approach them, just as Tyrion was giving some of his worldly advice.

"Let me give you some advice bastard: Never forget what you are. The world surely will not. Wear it like armour, and then it can never be used against you." Tyrion said. Steffon smiled. His uncle always had a kind word for anyone who was deemed an outcast. Well except for his cousin Orson Lannister. He had heard Tyrion once mention the name off-handedly in conversation once. Upon asking Jaime who Orson was, Jaime told him that Orson was a member of one of House Lannister's minor branches. Orson's wet nurse had dropped on his head and left him simple, and for the next few years Orson would regularly indulge in killing beetles. That was until he'd been kicked in the chest by a mule and killed. Tyrion had laughed at him, and Jaime told Steffon that Tyrion admitted that it was the only thing that made him feel like everyone else; laughing at someone's misery.

"Beloved nephew!" Said the half-drunk Tyrion.

"Uncle. Good to see you haven't drunk quite as much as I thought you would've." Steffon replied, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Oh I will before the night it out nephew" Tyrion said, before turning to head back inside. Steffon then turned to Jon.

"You're a fine swordsman Jon"

"Thank you Steffon. There's not many places for a bastard though." Jon replied, somewhat bitterly. A bright idea formed in Steffon's head at that moment.

"What would you say if I offered to make you my Sworn Shield? Joffrey has one, and mother's always pestering me to find one." Steffon said. A look of shock appeared on Jon's face.

"Steffon, I'm a bastard. I don't deserve such a high station-"

"Bugger that. Brynden Rivers was a bastard and he was the Hand of the King for several years." Steffon deliberately chose not to mention the King Bloodraven was the Hand to: Aerys I.

"I . . . I must think on this, my Prince." Said Jon, still stunned.

"Take all the time you must Jon. I know this decision is not a light one." Steffon said, before motioning for Jon to join him inside. Jon turned him down and went back to attacking the practice dummy.

As Steffon wandered back in, Ned looked over at Robert and nodded. Robert nodded back, both of them reaching the conclusion it was time to make the announcement.

* * *

 _Several hours earlier . . ._

Ned had been busy organising things for the feast that night in his study when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in" He said. The door opened, revealing Steffon.

"Lord Stark. I just wanted to introduce myself properly." Said Steffon, holding out his right hand to the Warden of the North.

"Of course, my Prince." Said Ned, shaking Steffon's hand.

"Please, my name is Steffon." Steffon replied. "I also wanted to share an observation, my Lord."

"That being?"

"I heard from my father that you're planning to betroth your daughter Sansa to my brother Joffrey."

"Yes. What of it?" Asked Ned, his interest piqued.

"With all due respect my Lord, I believe it's a bad move. Joffrey is not the . . . sanest of people, shall we say." Steffon said. Ned had to know more though. For all he knew, this Prince was trying to poach Sansa for himself.

"Might you explain how, my Prince?" Ned asked.

"Very well, Lord Stark." Steffon began with a sigh "When we were younger, he would often bully Myrcella, Tommen and myself. I tried to divert most of his negative attention towards me; my younger siblings didn't need to put up with him. When I was 8, I was playing in the Red Keep courtyard with a wooden sword my uncle Stannis had just given me for my nameday. I was pretending to be my father, winning the Rebellion and taking the Iron Throne. Joffrey shoved me to the ground and told me he'd be the King and I'd be nothing. He then kicked me several times. A few years ago, Tommen had a pet cat that got pregnant; Joffey proceeded to cut open the poor thing and present it, unborn kittens and all, to father. Tommen cried for days."

As Steffon's stories of Joffrey went on, Ned's eyes widened even further. _I need to discuss this with Robert_ he thought.

* * *

 _30 minutes before the feast_

Robert was in the middle of one of his pre-feast drinking sessions in his temporary chambers inside the Great Keep when his door was knocked.

"Enter." Said Robert. His old friend entered.

"Ned, good to see you. What is it?" He asked.

"Robert, I have just spoken with your son Steffon. Is it true? What he told me about Joffrey? Because from where I'm standing, it seems as though the boy has an unchecked sadistic streak." Said Eddard. Robert sighed. _It was always going to come to this_ he thought. _I should've taught those two how to be proper brothers._

"Sadly Ned, whatever Steffon told you about Joffrey is true." Robert began. He then recounted all of the shocking incidents Joffrey was guilty of, causing Ned to come to what the thought was the only sane conclusion.

"I'm sorry Robert, but I cannot in good conscience allow either of my daughters to marry Joffrey."

"I may be a fool Ned, but I understand. Our houses were always meant to be joined though. How . . ." Robert trailed off, before speaking back up again "That's it. Ned, I still have my other son, Steffon. Would Sansa marry him?"

"It's unlikely. In the short time she's known him, she's already shown a marked dislike of him." Ned replied. Robert sank back into his chair, deep in thought once more, before speaking again.

"Ned, your daughter Arya; she looks a lot like Lyanna, doesn't she?" He asked. Ned, unsure where his friend was going with this, decided to humour him.

"Yes, she's definitely inherited her aunt's looks. Her attitude as well; she's more interested in swordfighting and horse riding and archery that learning how to be a lady." Said Eddard.

"And Steffon's essentially a better version of myself. He doesn't drink; doesn't like whores. Would you be willing to betroth Arya to Steffon?" Asked Robert. Ned hadn't expected this.

"Arya's determined not to get married. She's concerned she'd be losing too much of the freedom she has now."

"Not to worry on that front, Ned. Three people aide from Tommen that Steffon always makes time for are Myrcella, Tyrion and Edric Storm. A woman, a dwarf and a bastard. When I asked him why, he told me 'Why shouldn't we be equal? Aegon the Conqueror's sisters were both warriors, Brynden Rivers was Hand of the King and Tyrion's the most fun person I've met." Robert said. Ned let this sink in.

"if he truly thinks that everyone is made equal, then I have no doubt he'd make a fine husband for Arya."

"It's settled then. Steffon and Arya will be betrothed in place of Joffrey and Sansa. We'll announce it at the feast."

And that was that

* * *

Robert took center stage in the Great Hall, his loud, booming voice easily reaching everyone's ears.

"QUIIIEEEEET! Now, it has been a priority of both mine and Lord Stark's to join our illustrious houses. As a result, I am very happy to announce the betrothal of Prince Steffon Baratheon and Lady Arya Stark!" He said.

Silence entered the Hall like a shadow. Sansa's mouth was open in shock, as were Joffrey's, Robb's, Cat's and Cersei's. Steffon and Arya were frozen, as if they couldn't beleive what they had just heard.

The Hall was so deathly quiet you could've heard a pin drop. As the news began to sink in, Steffon and Arya were none too happy.

"WHAT?!"

 **And there it is! Not much to say here. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter and continue to enjoy the story as it progresses. Auf wiedersehen folks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello people! Welcome to chapter 4 of my story! I'm glad people are enjoying it so far, and this will go on for a long time.**

 **So, as I mentioned before, Gendry is going to be my POV at the Wall, but I wanted to give him a sort introduction before we get to Castle Black, so I'm giving him a short POV here before moving him to the Wall.**

 **I should also add that in terms of timelines, I'm going to be using one I found here:** **?/topic/84563-most-precise-asoiaf-timeline-in-existence/**

 **As you can see, the Royal Family was in Winterfell for the better part of a month.**

 **Moving on then!**

Gendry had come north with the royal party as a guest of Prince Steffon. Why a Prince would take any interest in him was beyond his knowledge, but he did not question. For the first time in years he had a full stomach each night.

When he had first heard the announcement about Steffon and Arya's betrothal, he thought the two of them would be jumping for joy. Instead the mood between them was . . . frosty to say the least. They avoided each other like the plague and when they did see each other, they barely talked. Lady Arya in particular was taking the whole situation very badly; she was becoming increasingly callous towards Septa Mordane and her sister Lady Sansa.

The Prince for his part, was somewhat more passive, though it was still noticeable. He would mope around the castle crestfallen, almost like a lost puppy. Gendry had gotten the impression that while the Prince didn't mind being betrothed to Arya, he was less than happy with Arya's reaction.

Gendry shook himself out of his thoughts, and went back to polishing the sword Steffon had requested he make. Gendry had apprenticed in King's Landing under the renowned blacksmith Tobho Mott, but had encountered a Night's Watch recruiter in a Flea Bottom tavern one night. It was at that moment Gendry decided that there was only so much he could do as a blacksmith. He wanted to safeguard the realm from the Wildlings, he wanted to prove that he could be something more than a King's Landing blacksmith.

So when the Prince had requested his presence on the journey north, Gendry took him up on his offer; informing the Prince that he intended to join the Night's Watch no later than a week after the Royal Family's arrival in Winterfell. The reason for this being he wanted to get some combat training under his belt before he left. They'd been there for five days, and he'd been training with Lord Stark's Captain of the Guard, Jory Cassel for at least 3 hours each day.

That was, until the Prince had asked for this sword to be made. When Gendry was handed the design, he instinctively knew it as a Braavosi weapon, but why in the world would the Prince want a Braavosi weapon? Gendry shook his head. _It's not mine to ask,_ he thought.

"Gendry, how much longer?" Asked Steffon, walking into the smithy.

"Not much longer. Just putting on the finishing touches now." Gendry replied. "You sure this is a good idea? I mean, she's not exactly been passive . . ."

"I'm sure. Hopefully, she won't decide to carve my heart out with it, but you never know." Steffon said, smiling slightly. At that moment, Gendry finished the sword.

"There, my Prince. It's ready for Lady Arya. I'll just fetch the scabbard . . ." Gendry said, finding the scabbard and sliding the blade into it before handing it to Steffon.

"You're leaving tonight, aren't you Gendry?"

"Yeah, I've been training under Lord Stark's Guard Captain every day since we got here, and I've also forged my own sword. Here, take a look." Said Gendry, taking the sword he had finished forging yesterday off the weapon rack, and showing it to Steffon. It was indeed a beautiful weapon, but looked very deadly too **(think a one-handed version of the Steel Sword from The Witcher)**.

"Fine work Gendry. I have no doubt it'll serve you well on the Wall."

"Thank you my Prince, and good luck."

"You too, Gendry, you too."

* * *

After getting directions from Robb and Jon, Steffon found his way to Arya's chambers. Hoping she didn't decide to kill him on the spot, he gently knocked on her door.

"Lady Arya, it's Steffon. We really need to talk about this. I didn't ask our fathers for this-"

"Why should I believe you?" Arya said from behind the door. Steffon sighed.

"I can't give you any reason to believe me. You'll just have to."

"Not exactly a compelling reason is it?"

"Look, can I please just come in? We need to talk about this, and you're smart enough to know that." Steffon said. Behind the door, Arya was still fuming, but realised that he had a point. Even if it was just to talk to the fathers and get them to cancel the betrothal, they had to talk about it. Reluctantly, she opened the door to see Steffon holding what appeared to be a sword in its scabbard. She was puzzled as to why he had it, but decided not to ask.

"You know I don't believe you when you say you had nothing to do with this, right?" Arya asked rhetorically.

"I know, but I really don't. No-one bothered to consult me or you on this, so can we please cut the shit?" Steffon asked. Arya's jaw dropped for a second at hearing the prince swear so casually. She hadn't expected him to be foul-mouthed, but again, he had a point. The very fact that he had shouted with shock and indignation at the feast when their betrothal was announced seemed to imply that he had little to no knowledge of what was being planned.

"Fine. I'm not happy about this arrangement" She said

"Yeah I got that impression. Look, Arya, I think the reason my father wants us betrothed is because we remind him of himself and your aunt Lyanna when they were young." Steffon replied. Arya did have to admit, she had overheard her father telling her mother that she was Lyanna's spitting image; and Steffon did apparently look like a young Robert.

"Well I can see why he'd think that." Said Arya. Steffon, unable to articulate a reply, decided to show her the sword instead.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. I had Gendry make this for you." He said, handing the weapon to her. Arya took it and grabbed the hilt, sliding the blade from the scabbard. "It's a Braavosi design called a smallsword. You can't cleave a man in half with it, but you can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough." He said, as Arya twirled the sword around.

"It's a bit small, isn't it?" Arya asked.

"Hence the term smallsword. It's a good weapon for you now, then when you get older and stronger, you'll be able to wield a one-handed sword and this one as an off-hand weapon for parrying and hitting weak spots. In time, you may even start mixing Braavosi and Westerosi fighting styles and invent your own." He said.

Needless to say, Arya was taken aback by the Prince's display of generosity. Not many people appreciated that she'd rather learn how to fight than be a lady.

"Any advice for me?" she asked.

"Stick'em with the pointy end." He said. They both chuckled at that. After examining the elegant weapon for a few more moments, she looked up at Steffon and gave a genuine smile.

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles, I've got a needle of my own." She said.

"There's your name for it: Needle."

"Not a bad idea, Steffon." Arya said. She was genuinely happy with her gift and Steffon for giving it to her. Steffon turned around to leave and had opened the door when Arya stopped him. "Steffon, wait." She said, before setting Needle down and enveloping him in a tight hug. "Thank you Steffon" She said. For his part, Steffon was slightly shocked by the sudden display of affection. After a moment of shock, he returned the hug. They stood like that for a while, lost in the hug.

Unbeknownst to them, a rather jealous Sansa had witnessed the last part of the exchange. She scoffed silently at it, not believing that Steffon and Arya would even talk to each other. It seemed that her original plan to use Steffon and Arya's lack of affection to get her father to reconsider her and Joffrey's betrothal was scuppered. She walked off, still in a huff.

Meanwhile, in the back of Steffon and Arya's minds, they both felt the situation was getting a bit awkward. The broke apart rather quickly.

"So . . . um . . . I should go." Said Steffon.

"Yeah . . . I mean . . . of course." Arya replied haltingly. As Steffon left, both of them were wearing big smiles on their faces.

* * *

The next morning found Bran Stark climbing the walls of Winterfell once more. He just wanted to climb one more time before he stopped forever and went to squire for Ser Barristan the Bold, of all people! His hero!

As he ascended the tower, he could . . . moaning? That puzzled him. He decided to climb further to investigate, and saw two people in the middle of having sex. He didn't entirely recognise the man, but the Queen's face was unmistakable. She saw him at that moment.

"Stop! Stop!" She shrieked. Bran tried to climb down, only for the man to pull him back to the window.

"Are you completely mad?" Asked the man, rhetorically. Bran now recognised him as Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queen's brother. _But wait,_ thought Bran, _if they're siblings . . . and they were doing that . . . then that means . . . oh Gods_.

"He saw us" said the Queen. Jaime tried to reassure him, but Bran was still scared stiff. "He saw us!" She shouted.

"I heard you the first time." Jaime replied. He then turned to Bran. "Quite the little climber aren't you? How old are you boy?" He asked.

"12" Bran replied, still frightened.

"12?" Said Jaime, before letting go of Bran. Jaime and the Queen stared at each other for a few moments before he spoke up again. "The things I do for love." He said, before pushing Bran from the tower.

 **Dun dun duuuuuun! Okay, so we reach the end of the first act. Stay tuned for chapter 5! Auf wiedersehen!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello and welcome to chapter 5 of The Young Stag! I hope you're all enjoying it so far (judging by the response you are).**

 **I should mention before I continue, that there are event from canon in this story that won't be altered for plot reasons. I'm sorry, there are just too many important things to avert. Some will be good, some will be bad, and some will be firmly planted in the middle. Most of them will be the final one, as one of GRRM's recurring themes is "glory wrapped in tragedy", something that I will attempt to highlight as the story progresses.**

 **I should also mention something else. If you think that Arya and Steffon's relationship is moving too quickly for it to be believable, I think I should explain myself. Arya always struck me as the sort of person who'd try to make the best of a situation she wasn't comfortable with, plus she also thoroughly rejected Edric Dayne's idea in the book that Ned Stark fell in love with Ashara Dayne at the Tourney of Harrenhal. Due to this, it seems to me that she'd take comfort in the fact that her parents had grown to love each other.**

 **So without further ado, let us progress the story!**

Winterfell became a hive of activity after Bran's fall from the tower. Steffon had found him and immediately sent for Maester Luwin, who had set to work almost straight away fixing Bran's injuries.

"He's lucky there was a cart of hay underneath him; cushioned the fall. He still hit his head fairly hard and will have no memory of the day, but he will at least be able to walk." Luwin had said. The Starks, Steffon, Robert, Tommen and especially Myrcella were all relieved at hearing this, Joffrey was his usual self and Cersei . . . well she hadn't taken a liking to the Northerners, to put things mildly.

Arya had taken Bran's fall exceptionally hard, and Steffon had done his best to console her. Arya was fully aware that he was unpracticed in consoling people, yet she appreciated his efforts. The two had undoubtedly grown closer, something that had made Robert and the Starks' (save for Sansa) moods better, while making Cersei and Sansa's moods worse. Since he had given Arya Needle, the two had resolved to try and make a go of their arranged marriage. They weren't quite all the way to loving each other, but Arya had talked with her mother and felt reassured by the fact that her parents had come to love each other despite them barely even knowing each other to begin with.

The two were deep in conversation in the courtyard the morning after Bran's fall. It was mostly about what life in their respective home regions was like.

"King's Landing raises such a stink that I even tried to escape to the Free Cities once". He said.

"I thought you did that to test how good a soldier you were." Arya responded.

"Partly yes, but the point of the story is that King's Landing stinks to the Seventh Hell." Steffon said with a deadpan expression, eliciting a giggle from Arya.

"Good to see you two getting along." The two turned around to see Gendry en route to another one of training sessions with Jory.

"Yes well, we decided to try and do what we could to make this thing work." Said Steffon, smiling.

"Yeah. Thanks for making Needle by the way." She said to Gendry, who in turn looked at Steffon quizzically.

"It's what she named the smallsword you made." Steffon said. Gendry nodded in recognition before heading off to his training with Jory. As the two wandered off to have breakfast with Steffon's family, they ended up seeing a rather amusing sight near the dog kennels. Tyrion was in the middle of scolding Joffrey, who turned momentarily to the Hound, Sandor Clegane, then, _**THWACK!**_ Tyrion had slapped Joffrey across the face with a surprising amount a force for a man of his size. He then proceeded to slap Joffrey twice more while the Hound simply stood and watched, the barest hint of amusement on his own face.

After a moment, neither of the couple-to-be could contain themselves no longer, and burst out laughing.

"Ahh. Time for breakfast! Nephew, you will be joining me, I hope? I do not wish to be left to suffer at my sister's hands." He said to Steffon.

"Of course not uncle. Arya will be joining us too. She is to be my wife soon, after all." Said Steffon, looking tenderly at Arya. For her part, Arya couldn't help the hint of a blush creeping up onto her cheeks.

"Oh the look on Cersei's face will be priceless." Said Tyrion, smirking. The three walked over to the hall where Cersei and her children had set themselves up, along with Jaime.

"Little brother, nephew, Lady Arya" Said Jamie, greeting them all in turn.

"Beloved siblings" Said Tyrion, before taking a seat next to Tommen.

"Good morning mother, uncle, Tommen and Myrcella." Greeted Steffon with a pleasant smile on his face. Arya waved a shy greeting to the two younger Baratheons, as well as the Queen and Jaime. She was clearly out of her depth, so Steffon resolved not to stay long. He and Arya then sat down next to each other, prompting Cersei to shoot Steffon a look of disapproval.

"Is Bran going to die?" Asked Myrcella, suddenly. She was very worried about Bran, though she couldn't exactly put her finger on why.

"Apparently not." Tyrion replied, causing Myrcella's face to split into a wide grin. Cersei on the other hand, looked somewhat troubled.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Maester Luwin says Bran will live. He was lucky that cart of hay was beneath him; cushioned the impact. If it was otherwise, we may be preparing for a funeral now instead of eating breakfast. As it is, he'll probably have no memory of the day." Steffon responded. He and Arya didn't fail to notice the looks that Cersei and Jaime shared.

"That's no mercy; letting a child linger in such pain." Cersei said. Arya's hands balled into fists at that, something which both Tyrion and Steffon noticed.

"Only the Gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray." Tyrion said, attempting to defuse the situation. "The charms of the North seem entirely lost on you." Tyrion said to his sister.

"I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous, even for you." She responded. It was common knowledge among the royal party no that Tyrion intended intended to visit the Wall when Benjen Stark left with his new batch of recruits, including Gendry.

"Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built; the intrepid men of the Night's Watch; the wintry abode of the White Walkers." He said, leaning forward to tickle Tommen for a bare second.

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black, uncle." Steffon said, taking some food.

"And go celibate, nephew? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world." Tyrion said, causing everyone but Cersei to chuckle in amusement. The halfman, as they called Tyrion, was already starting to grown on Arya. He seemed to have a sense of humour that the Queen seemed to lack. She wasn't sure about Jaime though.

"Children don't need to hear your filth. Come." Cersei then said to Myrcella and Tommen, as if confirming Arya's thoughts. Steffon and Arya left soon after, with Steffon about to spring yet another surprise on her.

"So, now that you have a sword, I though you'd best learn how to use it. So I've arranged for a Braavosi swordmaster to train you in the Braavosi style of fighting. You'll meet him a while after we arrive in King's Landing." He said. He was prepared for Arya to thank him, but yet again, she hugged him tightly. They broke apart for a short moment, and became lost in each other. The two began to lean in towards each other. _This is it, I'm going to kiss her_ thought Steffon.

 _This is it, he's going to kiss me_ thought Arya. They leaned in further and their lips were almost touching-

"Oh look at the little lovebirds." Came a cocky voice. They broke away and angrily turned to see not only a smirking Theon, but also a smirking Robb and Jon. The two began blushing fiercely as they stammered out good byes to each other. After Robb and Theon had left, only Steffon and Jon remained.

"My Prince, I've considered your offer, and I'd like to accept." Said Jon, drawing his sword. "I swear you my sword, Prince Steffon of the House Baratheon. I swear to defend you against those who would do you harm, and-"

"Oh stand up, will you Jon? Seven Hells man, you know I'm not one for pomp." Said Steffon, motioning for Jon to stand up. Flushed, Jon stood up and sheathed his sword **(bow chicka bow wow)**.

* * *

The large party left Winterfell mere hours later. Gendry and Steffon said their final goodbyes, promising to see each other again, before finally parting ways. Arya as well had come to thank Gendry one last time for making Needle before the former apprentice smith departed with the Night's Watch group, with Tyrion Lannister in tow.

Arya had insisted on riding a horse for at least part of the way, and one had been provided for her at Steffon's behest. The two rode in a companionable for a time, at least until Septa Mordane insisted that Arya dismount and ride in a wheelhouse, which she did reluctantly.

There would be trouble on the Kingsroad later on, but neither f them knew that.

 **And there we have it! So the Royal Party and the Starks have left Winterfell for King's Landing. Things'll properly start up next chapter, I promise. Auf wiedersehen!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello and welcome to a new chapter! I'm glad that my story has been so well-received on here. So thanks you everyone for the support and I hope you continue to enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.**

 **Just a side note: I do not own any references in this chapter**

 **Anyway, shall we proceed? Cue the Game of Thrones theme . . .**

The joint Royal-Stark party had been riding for several days now. They were however, minus Myrcella. She had wanted to stay in Winterfell until Bran had recovered from his fall. Cersei had been reluctant, but Robert and Ned both allowed it. Already, there was talk between them of betrothing the two, in order to further strengthen the ties between Stark and Baratheon.

Robert had called a halt now, probably to talk with Ned. As the two old friends were speaking, Steffon walked over to where Arya was playing around with a stick, practicing her swordplay. She seemed to have picked up a few things from watching Steffon spar with Robb and Jon at Winterfell.

"Hello there Arya. Practicing your swordfighting I see." He said.

"Yeah. I think I'm getting better, but I won't know for sure until I meet that Braavosi fighter you were telling me about." Arya responded.

"No need to worry there Arya; the one I hired was recommended to me by a friend."

"Well I'm glad to hear that. Hey, can I have a look at your sword?" She asked. Normally, Steffon would be rather reluctant, but Arya was his wife-to-be.

"Yeah why not?" Said Steffon, drawing his longsword from the scabbard at his waist.

"It's a little plain isn't it?" She asked.

"Arya, you know I'm not overly fond of decoration. I think you'll find however that it is quite masterfully made." He said, handing the sword to her. It was indeed well-made; it was perfectly balanced and actually fairly light for a longsword. Arya swung the sword through the air; she soon found out that while it was light, it was still slightly heavy for her.

"It's still heavy." She complained.

"That's because you're not strong enough yet, hence why I had a smallsword made for you." He responded. Arya nodded, handing the weapon back to him. "Would you um . . . like to go for a walk, Arya?" Steffon asked, nervously. Arya nodded eagerly; there were far worse people for her to be betrothed to. Steffon slid his sword back into the scabbard before going to notify Jory about what was happening, to which he told them to be back by nightfall.

So the two began wandering away from the column, Arya having changed from her much hated dress into a more comfortable tunic and breeches. Steffon meanwhile, was still wearing his padded armour and longsword strapped to his waist. As they were walking along, Steffon's hand idly slipped into Arya's, almost subconsciously. Arya thought about shaking her hand out, but decided against it. If they were going to make a go of this, then they had to make it a real one.

They continued walking hand in hand, eventually finding a small clump of trees. The two walked over to the tree clump before sitting down against one of the trees. Steffon, always prepared for such peaceful moments, pulled a book out of a pouch on his belt.

"What's that?" Asked Arya, sitting down next to him.

"It's called The Lord of the Rings. It's written by a Maester Tolkein and is one of the best I've ever read. They made plays based on it." Steffon replied.

"It was three, wasn't it?" She asked

"Yes it was, all three volumes. They're going to be writing a series of plays based on its prequel as well."

"But wasn't the prequel just one book?" Asked Arya, puzzled.

"Yes, but every person loves their coin, especially playwrights." Steffon answered.

"What about the series written by Maester Martin?" She asked again.

"They're very good. Excellent in fact, but he always says that the next part is 'coming soon'. Every. Single. Time." He responded. Arya giggled, gently shoving him. "Oh so you want to play rough, wolf?" He said jokingly, shoving her back. The shoving match got more intense, until Arya decided to tackle him to the ground. The two then realised what an awkward position they were in, what with Arya being on top of Steffon; but neither of them wanted to move. They began leaning in toward each other, Steffon closing his eyes so he didn't make things weird.

Then Arya shot straight past his lips and kissed him on the cheek instead. She then leaped up off him and began running back to the column, laughing the whole time.

"Oh I'll get you for that wolf!" He shouted.

"Maybe when dragons return to the world, Young Stag!" She shouted back. He then jumped off the ground, shoved the book into his pouch, and took off after her.

* * *

The trip to the Wall was unpleasant to say the least. Gendry knew the fact that he already had a sword and some measure of training by a Household Guard Captain would make him a target for some of the more . . . 'unsavoury' recruits. As a result, he had done his best to avoid them so far. Night was falling though, and the party of recruits stopped to set up camp for the night. Some of the recruits who had been tied up to prevent them escaping were sat down and untied as Benjen Stark, the First Ranger and Lord Stark's brother, barked out instructions.

"What could they have done?" Gendry asked, more to himself than anyone else.

"Rapers." Said Tyrion, who sat himself down near Gendry. "They were given a choice no doubt: castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife." Tyrion finished. Gendry looked at the recruits distastefully, wondering how any of them could rape someone. "Not impressed by your new brothers?" Asked Tyrion. Gendry's look told him all he needed to know. "That's the lovely thing about the Watch; discard your family and you get a whole new one." Said Tyrion, smirking as always.

"Why do you read so much?" Gendry blurted out. It had been playing on his mind for some time. He needed a bit more . . . Gods what did Prince Steffon call it . . . tact? Yes that was it; tact. Then again, Gendry had grown up in Flea Bottom; life there was rough-and-tumble at the best of times and there hadn't been much call for tact there.

"Look at me and tell me what you see." Tyron replied.

"Is this some sort of trick, Lord Lannister?"

"What you see is a dwarf. If I was a peasant they would've left me in the woods to die. Alas, I was lucky enough that my parents were Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was Hand of the King for 20 years."

"Until your brother killed that King." Gendry said.

"Yes, until my brother killed that King. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new King and my repulsive nephew Joffrey will be King after him. Sometimes, I wish Steffon was their firstborn. But I must do my part for the honour of my house, wouldn't you agree? How you might ask? Well, my brother has his sword and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. I would've thought Steffon taught you that. And you? What's your story bastard?" Tyrion asked. By now, it was no secret that Gendry was Robert's bastard son, as Steffon had told Benjen at Winterfell, along with most of the other Starks and Tyrion. They had all kindly agreed to keep it a secret from Cersei, who would be livid to find out her son brought along his bastard half-brother, to say the least.

"Ask me nicely and maybe I'll tell you dwarf." Gendry responded, with an edge in his voice. He never liked being called bastard, even if he was a Flea Bottom native.

"A bastard smallfolk boy with nothing to inherit, off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch with his valiant brothers in arms."

"The Night's Watch protects the realm against-" Gendry started.

"Against grumpkins and snarks and all the other monsters your friends in Flea Bottom warned you about. You're a smart boy Gendry. You don't really believe that nonsense do you?" Tyrion asked rhetorically. "Here. Everything's better with some wine in the belly" He said, tossing a wineskin to Gendry.

The recruits arrived at Castle Black days later, after some very hard travelling. Gendry, along with the other recruits, was awed by the size of the Wall. Surely it took more than a thousand men to man that thing. _Well, here I am_ he thought to himself before riding through the gates of Castle Black behind Benjen.

* * *

The mood back in Winterfell meanwhile, was somber to say the least. Catelyn and Myrcella hadn't left Bran's side as he lay unconscious. Myrcella had been overjoyed when her father and Lord Stark had agreed to let her stay until Bran had recovered from his fall. She had stayed by Bran's side the whole time, all the while reading one of Maester Martin's books or looking anxiously at Bran. Catelyn had noticed some of the looks she gave her unconscious son, and picked up that Myrcella may have become infatuated with Bran. Why else would she want to stay here?

"It's time we reviewed the accounts, My Lady. You'll want to know how much the Royal visit has cost us." Said Maester Luwin, slipping quietly into the room.

"Talk to Poole about it." Catelyn responded, solemnly.

"Poole went south with Lord Stark, My Lady. We need a new steward, and there are several other appointments that require our attention-" Luwin began.

"I don't care about appointments!" She snapped, before Robb, who had arrived quietly himself, spoke up.

"I'll make the appointments." He said, before Luwin left the room. Myrcella tuned out of the conversation between mother and son, instead looking at Bran. He looked strangely at peace, lying there. At least he wouldn't be crippled. She was reluctant to admit it, but she had become . . . enarmoured with Bran. When she first saw him in the Winterfell courtyard in what felt like a lifetime ago, she had thought him handsome, and she'd been unable to stop the blush that had crept onto her cheeks when he kissed her hand. Both of them had blushed when Myrcella took his arm so he could escort her into the feast.

"Fire." Said Robb, snapping Myrcella from her thoughts. "You two stay here; I'll be back." He said, before going off to lead the effort against the fire. Myrcella looked behind Catelyn, and her eyes widened.

"My Lady . . ." She said, pointing behind her, Catelyn turned around . . . and came face to face with a grim-looking man.

"You're not supposed to be here. No-one's supposed to be here." He said, making Myrcella fear what would happen next. Her fears were justified, as the man pulled out a dagger. "It's a mercy. He's dead already." Said the man, before diving at Bran's unconscious form.

"No!" Shouted Catelyn, intercepting the man. The two fought as Myrcella searched for something to help Catelyn with. Frantically, she grabbed a fireplace poker just as the man threw Catelyn to the side. She cracked the man over the head with the poker again and again with a surprising amount of force for a girl her age, before the man seized the poker and smashed the blunt end into her shoulder. Myrcella cried out in pain, slumping against the wall and clutching her shoulder.

Just as the assassin lunged at Bran again, a blur of grey appeared in front of Myrcella. It was Bran's direwolf! The wolf mauled the assassin, tearing out his throat before calmly sitting down at the foot of Bran's bed. Myrcella walked over to the wolf cautiously.

"Good boy." She said, reaching to scratch him behind the ears. The wolf sniffed her for a few seconds and deciding that she smelled okay, held out his head. Myrcella scratched the wolf behind his ears, until he fell asleep. "Lady Catelyn, are you alright?" She asked. Catelyn had grabbed the blade of the dagger with her hands, and they were badly shredded.

"I believe I'll live." Said Catelyn. "And you, Princess? Are you alright?" She asked. Myrcella felt a biting pain in her shoulder, but all in all, she was more concerned about Catelyn's shredded hands.

"I'll be fine, but you'd best get those seen to." Myrcella said, nodding her head and Catelyn's hands.

"Yes. Yes of course. I'll go and see Maester Luwin now." She said, before leaving the room. Myrcella resumed her seat, trying not to look at the mauled body of the assassin. Unable to calm herself, she stood up and went to Bran's side again. Mustering her remaining reserves of courage, she leaned over and kissed Bran on the cheek.

* * *

Back in the south, column had arrived at the Crossroads Inn, their last stop before heading to King's Landing. Steffon and Arya had been taking every opportunity they could to spend time together. They both knew that they were beginning to fall for each other, and that left them both nervous. What if one of them messed up? They put these sorts of questions to the backs of their minds as they met for breakfast.

"So, what are you doing today Arya?" He asked. Arya noticed that he wasn't wearing his padded armour for a changed, but a plain brown doublet with the Baratheon crowned stag embroidered on the chest.

"Mycah and I were going to look for Rhaegar's rubies. You know, the rubies on the breastplate of the man your father killed?" She asked.

"I know. Though I think the last of them would've been found years ago." He said. Arya pouted.

"That's not to say we won't find anything." She said. Steffon held his hands up in surrender.

"I never said you wouldn't. Mind if I join you two? I've got nothing else planned today?" He asked.

"Sure! You can teach me and Mycah how to swordfight!" She said, excitedly.

"Arya, you know I'm not much of a fighter. But I suppose I could still join you anyway." Steffon said. The two quickly wolfed down their breakfast before collecting Mycah and heading to the nearby Ruby Ford. Arya and Mycah gave up looking for the rubies after a short time, before picking up two stick and swinging at each other wildly.

"I'll get you!" Said Mycah, chasing Arya while Steffon laughed from the sidelines. Suddenly, Joffrey and Sansa appeared.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted.

"What are you doing here? Go away." Arya said testily.

"Your sister, I presume. And who are you, boy?" Joffrey asked.

"Mycah, m'lord." Mycah said, trembling with fear. Steffon began to move forward with the intention of defusing the situation.

"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa said.

"He's my friend." Said Arya, prompting a glare from Sansa.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh? Pick up your sword then butcher's boy and let's see how good you are." Joffrey said, smiling sadistically and drawing his longsword, Lion's Tooth.

"She asked my too, m'lord. She asked me to." Said Mycah, still quaking.

"I'm not your lord I'm your Prince, and I said pick up your sword."

"It's not a sword, my Prince. It's only a stick."

"And you're not a Knight. Only a butcher's boy. That was my brother's betrothed you were hitting you know that?" Joffrey asked rhetorically.

"Joffrey, cut it out." Said Steffon, only to be ignored.

"He's right, stop it!" Arya said.

"Arya, stay out of this." Sansa responded with an edge to her voice, prompting glares from both Steffon and her sister.

"Oh don't worry, I won't hurt him . . . much." Said Joffrey, sliding the sword down Mycah's cheek, cutting it open. Suddenly, Arya smashed the stick into Joffrey's shoulder, causing Joffrey to swing the sword wildly at her. "FILTHY LITTLE BITCH!" He shouted. That was it for Steffon; no-one called Arya that on his watch. He drew his own sword and jumped into the fray, parrying and blocking Joffrey's clumsy swings before he brought his blade down on Jofrrey's, pinning his brother's sword to the ground.

"Now, let's pretend that none of this happened. No-one has to get hurt here, are we agreed?" Steffon asked. Arya nodded, Sansa did so reluctantly and Joffrey smiled.

"Of course brother. None of this unpleasant business happened, did it my Lady?" He said, turning to Sansa.

"No, my Prince." She said. The brothers sheathed their swords and turned back to their ladies.

"Well I'm glad that's sorted. Now let's go find Mycah and get his cheek patched up before-AAAARRRGGGHHH!" Shouted Steffon in pain. He tumbled over to his stomach, a deep red cut across his back. Behind him, Joffrey stood grinning sadistically and a bloodied sword. He began making more wild swings at Arya before knocking her to the ground.

"I'LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!" He shouted, before Nymeria leaped from the nearby bushes and attacked him. The two sisters began shouting at the direwolf, as she jumped off Joffrey. The tables were turned now, as Joffrey was lying on the ground and Arya was holding Lion's Tooth on him. _He hurt Mycah and Steffon. He deserves to die!_ Her brain was shouting at her over Joffrey and Sansa's protests.

"Arya . . ." Steffon said, clearly still in pain. "Remember the wizard from Maester Tolkein's books . . . true courage is about knowing not when to take a life . . . but when to spare one." He said, pleading her. Joffrey may be Joffrey, but he was still his brother. Arya realised that once again, Steffon was right. She hurled Lion's Tooth in the river, lifted up Steffon and helped him away.

* * *

When the two got back to the inn, the found to their relief that Steffon's wound wasn't as bad as they thought it was. The cut was actually fairly shallow, and thankfully, it hadn't hit Steffon's spine, which was his main worry. Arya had run off quickly after that, probably to avoid capture by a Lannister soldier. Steffon laid up in a bed stomach down, so as not to put any undue stress on the cut.

Cersei barged into the room where a Maester was attending to him. "How is he?" She asked, worriedly.

"He'll be fine, Your Grace. He'll be unconscious for some time due to blood loss, but the cut wasn't deep enough to cause any serious damage, and it failed to hit his spine, so he'll be able to walk." The Maester reported. Cersei sighed in relief. "Your Grace, I am at a very delicate moment in the procedure. I must ask you to leave." He said. Cersei turned to snap at the Maester that Steffon was **HER** son, but she thought better of it. The Maester would have a better chance of healing Steffon than she would. She planted a kiss on the side of Steffon's head before leaving.

Later that evening, everyone was gather at the Inn's main hall. Joffrey's mangled hand was patched up, While Steffon had to wear a large bandage under his doublet. Arya had been found by Lannister soldiers. _As if this day couldn't get any worse_ Steffon thought. She ran up to her father, begging his forgiveness.

"It's alright. What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?" Ned asked, in his Lord's voice.

"How dare you speak to your King in that manner." Cersei said.

"Quiet woman. Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl. Let's get this business done quickly." Said Robert, who was clearly not in a mood to be screwed around with.

"Your girl and that butcher's son attacked my son. The thing nearly tore his arm off." Cersei said.

"That's not true! She just . . . bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah." Arya responded.

"It's true, mother. Joffrey was cutting the poor lad's cheek open." Steffon said, only for his mother to ignore him.

"Joff told us what happened; you and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him." Said Cersei.

"That's not true!" Arya shouted.

"Yes it is!" Joffrey shouted in response.

"Liar!"

"Shut up!"

"ENOUGH!" Boomed Robert. "He tells me one thing, she tells me another. Seven Hells, what am I to make of this? Ned where's your other daughter?" He asked.

"In bed, asleep." Ned responded.

"No she's not. Sansa, com here darling." Cersei said, playing her trump card. Sansa stepped out from the crowd.

"Now, child" Robert started. "Tell me what happened. tell it all, and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a King."

"I don't know. I don't remember. It all happened so fast. I didn't see." She said.

"LIAR! Liar liar liar!" Arya shouted. She would've pulled Sansa's hair if Steffon hadn't somehow mustered the strength to wrap his arms around her midriff, holding her back.

"She as wild as that animal of hers. I don't know why you would consent to Steffon marrying her. I want her punished." Said Cersei.

"What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It's over." Said Robert.

"Father, if I may add something . . ." Said Steffon, trailing off.

"Of course Steffon."

"Well, Joffrey said he was beaten with clubs. Where are his bruises and welts? And if Arya did set Nymeria on him, they why isn't Joffrey dead? That wolf could've easily torn out his throat. No, she went for his hand because she was trying to protect her mistress. Note how that's his sword hand." Said Steffon. Robert had noticed that too, and there was little doubt in his mind that the wolf could've indeed killed Joffrey.

"Very well then. I'll see to it that Joffrey's disciplined." Said Robert.

"What of the wolf?" Asked Cersei.

"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." A soldier responded.

"No? So be it then." Said Robert.

"You have another wolf." Said Cersei.

"As you will." Robert said reluctantly.

"Father, Sansa's wolf Lady was not there. Mother is applying punishment by proxy. Do you honestly thank that's fair?" Steffon asked. Robert paused a moment.

"No. It's not, but this cannot be let go." Said Robert. Arya, Sansa and Steffon all began protesting. "I never said what would happen!" He boomed. "The wolf will return north, alive and unharmed. If you find the other, the same applies. If I found out that the wolf has been harmed by anyone unless in self-defence, then the Starks will deal with them. Case closed." Said Robert, leaving the hall. Arya embraced Steffon.

"Thank you thank you thank you." She said. Steffon winced, still in pain, but hugged her back. As the group left the hall, Arya asked a question that had been playing on her mind.

"Why didn't you tell your father that Joffrey attacked you?" She asked.

"That would've only made things worse. I've no wish to widen the rift between my parents." Said Steffon. Arya, satisfied with the answer, headed off to her room, but not before kissing Steffon on the cheek again.

 **Whew! Longest chapter I've ever written this was! 4000 words total. Hopefully this will hold everyone over until I can update again. Auf wiedersehen!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello and welcome to a new chapter! I'm pleased to announce that this is by far my most successful story. I'm glad that people have been taking a liking to Steffon, as I am having an awful lot of fun writing him.**

 **Anyway, moving on to the story!**

The rest of the journey south was uneventful, much to Steffon's relief. He had been travelling in the wheelhouse while he healed up, something he despised. He wanted to ride again, feel free once more. However, the maester who had tended to him insisted that he must refrain from doing so. Not willing to go against the maester's order he complied reluctantly. It wasn't all bad though; Arya had insisted on travelling on the same wheelhouse as him; which just so happened to be the one Cersei and Tommen were using (Robert had forced Joffrey to ride the rest of the way). Needless to day, the looks on Cersei's face were priceless. Steffon didn't know if the small amount of satisfaction he drew from it was wrong, but he didn't care.

One thing that did become noticeable was the fact that Arya and Steffon were becoming a bit more overt in their affections toward each other. For instance, they would always greet each other now with a slight peck on the other's cheek and were often holding hands. Cersei had been vocal in her disapproval of this; but Steffon had rebuffed her attempts to drive a rift between the young couple. All in all, it left a sour taste in Cersei's mouth that Steffon would be marrying this wild, untamed Northern girl. Straight away, she could tell that this girl wouldn't be as easily manipulated as Sansa; she'd have to put a lot of effort in.

The column pulled into King's Landing, with the Starks at the head. Steffon was the first out of the wheelhouse, not wanting to stay in their any longer. A Gold Cloak had arrived to greet the now dismounted Eddard Stark.

"Welcome, Lord Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The honour of your presence is requested." Said the Gold Cloak. Ned turned to the small crowd behind him.

"If you don't mind me imposing, My Prince, would you be able to get the girls settled in?" He asked. Steffon smiled.

"Of course My Lord." He said.

"If you'd like to change into something more appropriate . . ." The Gold Cloak trailed off whe he saw the blank look Ned gave him. Ned then simply removed his gloves and folowed the Gold Cloak, who by now, had realised the man's indifference.

Steffon turned to Jon, instructing him to escort them. Steffon was still unable to fight, so it only made sense. Jon for his part, had felt that he let down Steffon for not being there to protect him. As a result of this, the two had agreed that Jon would give Steffon proper weapon training as soon as he had fully healed.

He led the two Stark girls to their rooms. Upon reaching Sansa's, she promptly shut herself in the room, but not before shooting him and Arya a dirty look. The couple merely looked at each other with raised eyebrows and shrugged; if Sansa was going to be petty about their betrothal, it wasn't their problem. Steffon made sure that two Stark Guardsmen were posted outside her room before taking Arya to hers.

"Steffon, this room is amazing!" She gushed as they walked into the room, before tackling him to the ground in a very unladylike but affectionate manner. Steffon let out a small grunt of pain, and thanked the Seven that he'd had the presence of mind to shut the door because with Arya on top of him, it was a very compromising position, and would be doubly so if Jory, Jon and the Stark (or Baratheon, for that matter) Guardsmen had found them.

The two found themselves staring at each other again, as they had done on the Kingsroad, only this time, Steffon found himself staring into Arya's grey Stark eyes. He had always thought she was pretty, but now, he couldn't get past just how _beautiful_ she looked. To him, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Yet there was also something deeper there; she was feisty, intelligent, and by no means a pushover. To him, these were her most attractive qualities; the good looks were just a bonus.

Arya meanwhile, had similar feelings. Damn it, how was that possible? She had always laughed at Sansa for being a starstruck girl who believed those stupid songs, yet here she was, ogling her betrothed. _Ugh, why does he have to be so caring and handsome?_ She thought. He was Joffrey's polar opposite in so many ways; he was a kind, caring soul who was always willing to put others first. He was always willing to hear people out and give them the benefit of the doubt. Oh, and then there was the fact that he was actually fairly good-looking as well. Like Steffon's thoughts of her, the looks were almost an afterthought.

The two began to close the distance, both of them subconsciously closing their eyes and puckering their lips. Finally, their lips joined for the first time, and oh was it joyous for them. Rather than breaking apart instantly, the two deepened the kiss slightly. Arya could feel something poking into her, and almost by instinct, knew that 'it' had gotten up. However, the two held the kiss for a fraction longer before breaking apart.

"That was . . ." Steffon began, speechless for the first time in a long while.

"Yeah" Said Arya, blushing fiercely. Steffon gently ran his thumb up and down her cheek.

"Arya, no matter what anyone says, you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Even if I'm Arya Horseface?"

"Stop that. You're not horse-faced at all. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You may not be able to turn other men's heads, but you certainly do mine. It's good you don't have that effect on others."

"Why?" She asked, not knowing whether to be complimented or insulted.

"Because it certainly wouldn't do to have the Prince breaking other nobles' noses, would it?" He joked.

"No, it certainly wouldn't." She joked back. The two chuckled.

"Are you two al- oh Gods." Said Jon, walking into the room. The two broke apart and stood up embarrassed. Steffon more so, mainly because unlike when they had been in the same position on the Kingsroad, he had been unable to control himself, and had felt himself go hard. Fortunately, Jon couldn't tell and although there was no way Arya hadn't felt it, she had the good grace not to let on. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Jon asked, smirking for the first time since the two had met. The young couple frantically denied it before Jon shared some news with them. On Joffrey's orders, the Hound had killed Mycah. Arya's mood became very dark after that, and Jon and Steffon sensed that they should leave.

"I'll see you at supper then, Arya." Steffon said in goodbye, only to receive silence in return.

"Seems like you two have come a long way from Winterfell." Said Jon, leaving Arya to her own devices for now.

"We have. I think it may be something to do with the sword I gave her." He said, somewhat bitterly.

"You couldn't be more wrong, Steffon. She likes the sword, but what she likes more is the fact that you decided to support her as a fighter rather than a woman; what she likes most of all is that birth or gender mean nothing to you. You treat everyone equally." Jon argued.

"I get that from my uncle Stannis. He prefers commoners who have level heads over nobles who don't. It's one of the reasons he keeps Davis Seaworth close. As far as I'm concerned, lowborn, highborn, lord, heir, king, bastard, man, woman, we're all the same; we're all equal."

 **Okay so, chapter finished. So Arya and Steffon's relationship is coming along well (as well as a small taster of what's to come) and we got an insight into Steffon's personal beliefs. While they sound noble, bear in mind that Westeros is a patriarchal society, and Steffon's ideas of equality are going to cause him trouble down the road. But for now, auf wiedersehen!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello and welcome to a new chapter! I feel I should mention that the story is going to slow down a bit from here on until the war begins; as most of the story will revolve around it. Instead, we'll get to see the relationship between our favourite young couple will grow, see Bran and Myrcella's relationship grow, see Gendry train at the Wall, and see Ned characteristically fumble everything in King's Landing.**

 **Here we go!**

Winterfell had become a lot quieter lately, ever since Catelyn had left for King's Landing for reasons that Myrcella wasn't made aware of. She had pretty much stayed by Bran's bedside the whole time, never leaving it. Bran had woken intermittently, and hadn't spoken that much so far. He had thought he wouldn't be able to walk again, but Maester Luwin and Myrcella had assured him he would. This was a relief for him; he'd still be able to squire for Ser Barristan!

He was also happy for Myrcella's company; he found it more enjoyable than sitting through one of Old Nan's stories and if he was being perfectly honest, he did find her pretty. In fact, there was little doubt in his mind that she'd even surpass the Queen's legendary beauty. Even at her young age, he though Myrcella was easily the most attractive girl he'd seen in real life. Oh yes Old Nan's stories occasionally told of the legendary beauty of the Targaryen Queen Rhaenys, but he thought that Myrcella would be able to give Rhaenys Targaryen a run for her money.

His eyes flickered open, and he looked over to his left to see Myrcella asleep in her chair, one of Maester Martin's books open on her stomach. He smiled to himself; she looked simply _adorable_ when she was asleep.

"It's not polite to watch a lady when they're asleep Bran." Said a voice. Bran flicked his eyes over to the door to see Robb smiling knowingly at him. Ever since, their father had gone south, Robb and been slowly assuming the role of Winterfell's acting ruler, a position that he'd stepped into completely when their mother had left. In truth, Robb was already proving to be a great leader. The damage from the fire had been cleaned up in no time, and the few structures that did burn were either repaired within hours or were currently being rebuilt.

"I know, Robb; but I can't help it. She's just . . ." Bran trailed off. He didn't know how to word the rest of the sentence without embarrassing himself.

"I understand, Bran. Believe me, Prince Steffon understands it too."

"I know. Although he did make me promise I wouldn't do anything unbecoming of her on threat of death." Bran said, smiling. He still couldn't work out if Steffon had been joking when he said that; the boy did care about his younger siblings. A short groan signified Myrcella waking. The two looked over to see the young girl stretching in her chair, and then looking a bit sheepish when she realised that she'd fallen asleep reading a book.

"So, what's for breakfast?" She asked. The two Stark boys chuckled before heading down to the Great Hall. Bran, still recovering from his fall, had to use crutches in order to walk for now. Not that it stopped Myrcella from walking beside him and laughing at anything he said. She hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and yet this boy who she'd known for a few days had turned her into a constantly blushing mess. How was that even possible? Deep down, she knew, but that was dangerous territory; at least for now.

* * *

The courtyard of Castle Black rang with sound of steel on steel as Gendry sparred with another recruit, Grenn. Gendry block Grenn's incoming strike with his blade before smashing the pommel into Grenn's face, breaking his nose. _The blade isn't the only part of a sword_ Jory had said to him once.

"If that were a real sword, you'd be dead. Waters here grew up in Flea Bottom breaking noses of people like you." Said Alliser Thorne, the Master-at-Arms for Castle Black. The 'breaking noses' part was wrong through; Gendry never wanted to hurt people but had to on occasion in self defence, and he'd learnt early on the best way to neutralise an attacker was a straight punch to a spot between their chest and stomach (he'd overheard Maester Luwin call it a 'solar plexus'). The fact that he had that knowledge though meant that people often simply avoided him. "Pyp, you think the King's bastard bleeds like the rest of us?" Said Thorne, signalling another recruit, Pypar (or Pyp for short), to attack. Gendry promptly knocked him down with one move. Thorne signalled twice more, and twice more the Night's Watch recruits ended up on the ground. Thorne then told them to clean themselves up.

Gendry headed over to the armoury; he spent a lot of time there, seeing as he was a smith by trade. As he packed away his practice gear, Grenn and a group of other recruits walked in.

"You broke my nose, bastard!" He bellowed. Gendry was getting really sick and tired of the abuse the other recruits seemed to always have for him, fed on some sort of misconception that because he was a king's bastard, he'd get special treatment in Flea Bottom. Thorne's work, no doubt.

"It's an improvement." Gendry snarked in reply. In response, Grenn and two other recruits rushed forward and grabbed him.

"If we threw you over the Wall, I wonder how long it'd take before you hit." Grenn said menacingly.

"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did." Said another. Just as Gendry was sure the three were going to beat him, Tyrion walked into the armoury.

"What're you lookin' at, half-man?" Grenn asked.

"I'm looking at you. You've got a very interesting face. Very distinctive faces, all of you." He said, with a menacing tone that was so subtle to the point where Gendry only barely caught it.

"What do you care about our faces?" Asked a recruit.

"It's just that I think they'd look marvelous decorating pikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I should write to my nephew, Prince Steffon, about it. He sees Gendry as a borther, you know." Tyrion finished. Not wanting to incur the wrath of Tyrion and by proxy, the Prince, the recruits sheepishly wandered to another part of the armoury.

"Everybody knew what this place was like, and they didn't tell me. Even the Prince didn't tell me, and you said he considers me a brother." Said Gendry, bitterly.

"Don't doubt Steffon's words. I know him and he doesn't throw words around lightly."

"He still left me here." Gendry said, throwing his practice armour on the ground.

"Grenn's father left him outside a farmhouse when he was three. Pyp was caught stealing a wheel of cheese. His little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice: his right hand or the Wall. I've been asking Lord Commander Mormont about them. Fascinating stories, ever single one of them." Tyrion said, his inner compassion coming out.

"They hate me because I know how to fight." Gendry insisted.

"It's a lucky thing none of them were trained by a Captain of the Guards like Jory Cassel. I don't imagine they've ever held a real sword before they arrived here. Byt he way, your brother wanted you to know that Brandon Stark has woken up."

* * *

Back in King's Landing, Arya, Sansa, Septa Mordane and Steffon were eating at a table. Steffon had politely asked Lord Stark for permission to join them, and he had been allowed to. Steffon was a bit nervous though; Arya's mood hadn't really improved since she found out that Mycah was dead. Currently, she was stabbing a knife into the table. While Steffon chuckled quietly at this, Sansa and Mordane were less than amused.

"Enough of that, young lady. Eat your food." Mordane said in a harsh tone. Steffon had already grown to dislike the woman. To him, it seemed like she doted on Sansa while paying little to no attention to Arya.

"I'm practicing." Arya responded simply.

"Practicing for what?" Asked Sansa, a bit haughtily.

"Joffrey." She replied.

"Arya, you do not talk about Prince Joffrey like that in front of his brother!" Mordane shouted.

"He's a liar, a coward, and he killed my friend."

"The Hound killed your friend." Sansa responded, determined to defend her beloved Joffrey.

"The Hound does what Joffrey tells him too." Arya responded.

"Sadly, Arya's right. Clegane's little more than Joffrey's personal hatchet man. I seem to get the impression that he gets fed up dealing with my brother though." Steffon chimed in.

"You're an idiot Arya!" Sansa shouted.

"And you're a liar!" Arya shouted back.

"Enough!" Mordane roared, instantly cowing the two girls into silence just as Ned entered the room.

"What's going on here?" He asked in his thick Northern accent.

"Arya would rather begave like a beast than a lady. In front of her betrothed, no less." Mordane said. Steffon set down his fork and knife.

"If you'll excuse me, Lord Stark, I believe I've lost my appetite."

"I have too," said Arya "There's too much hot air to eat normally here anyway. Will you escort to my room, Steffon?" Arya asked sweetly, smiling for the first time since the news of Mycah's death had reached her.

"Of course, my love." Steffon replied, offering Arya his arm, which she gladly took. Sansa, as always when the two showed affection towards each other, scoffed silently. Steffon made a point of walking close by Mordane on their way out. "If you ever call Arya a beast again, I will personally throw you into the Blackwater, and I'm not in the habit of making idle threats." He said menacingly, causing Mordane's face to go pale.

The young couple walked up to Arya's room, arm in arm. Arya was excited at the prospect of starting her swordfighting lessons tomorrow, and Arya being excited always brought a smile to Steffon's face. Honestly, she was like a hyperactive puppy sometimes.

"Thank you for standing up for me, Steffon. No-one's done that before." She said as they wandered into Arya's room.

"It's not a problem, Arya." Said Steffon.

"It's just that . . . I don't want to be a proper lady. I hate everything about it. Most men would say it makes me even more unattractive than I already am." Arya said solemnly. Despite how well she may've tried to hide it, she was still a bit self-conscious about her looks. She had always said to her parents and Jon that the horrible nicknames that Sansa, her friend Jeyne Poole and others had called her didn't bother here, but truthfully, it did.

"Hey, Arya, come here." he said, sitting down on her bed and holding out his arms. Arya said beside him and hugged into him. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. You're smart, funny, feisty, and kind. I don't really care what Sansa might say. Those so-called 'Proper Ladies' are all just trying to imitate each other. You're trying to break out from traditional roles; that alone means you have much courage within you." He said. When Arya looked into his eyes, she saw only truth, and then made to kiss him. Rather than breaking apart however, the kiss deepened slightly. Steffon tentatively swept his tongue across Arya's bottom lip, to which she opened her mouth. The two began to duel with their tongues. Despite having never done it before, it seemed to come naturally to them. Soon, they felt their breath running out. Steffon broke the contact between their lips, causing Arya to be a bit disappointed. This feeling of disappointment was erased when she felt Steffon's lips moving up the left side of her neck. Arya began to moan slightly; something she'd never really done before. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rejoined their lips. After a few more seconds, it was Arya who broke it this time. Steffon had a similar reaction to hers, down to when Arya began kissing up his neck. She flicked her tongue against his ear, causing him to groan slightly. The blissful moment was interrupted however, by Lord Stark knocking on the door. The two quickly broke apart and said their goodbyes, smiling coyly at each other.

* * *

The next day, Arya showed up for her lesson to see a man with strange hair holding two practice swords.

"You are late, boy." He said. "Tomorrow, you will be here at midday." The man continued.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Syrio Forel, your dancing master." The man said. He then tossed one of the wooden swords to Arya, who proceeded to miss it entirely. "Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up." Arya did so. "That is not the way, boy. This is not a greatsword that needs two hands to swing it."

"It's too heavy." She complained.

"It's just as heavy as it needs to be to make you strong. One hand is all that is needed. Now you're standing all wrong, turn your body side-face. Your are skinny. Good. The target is smaller." Syrio continued instructing her for the rest of the afternoon, visited by Steffon and Lord Stark. Steffon was just eager to see Arya again (seriously, the two were seen together most of the time) and Ned had wanted to see his daughter train. The Prince and the Lord of Winterfell watched Arya and Syrio spar, but before long, Ned's grin was turning into a grimace. He could hear the sounds of the battlefield coming back to him. _No,_ he thought, _I will never enter another battlefield if I can help it._

 **And there it is! So we got glimpses of the goings on in Winterfell and at Castle Black, not to mention that we got our first *ahem* intimate session with Arya and Steffon. Trust me, there'll be many more before I finish this. In terms of continuity, we've just reached the end of "Lord Snow", so I'd like to think I'm moving fairly quickly. Anyway, auf widersehen!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello and welcome to a new chapter! I'm glad everyone's been enjoying this so far. It's going to be a very long story. Anyway, the first of my original ideas appears in this chapter. Keep an eye out for it.**

Ned had noticed that Steffon and Arya were growing closer, they had scarcely been seen without each other in the past couple of days. He has happy for them, though he wanted Arya to know the entire family she'd be marrying into, and that meant her accompanying Prince Steffon to Dragonstone when he visited his uncle, Lord Stannis, after the tourney.

"I still can't believe that the King wants this." Said Jon. Ned and Jon, being the two Northmen in the southern court, had decided to stick together early on, when Jon wasn't guarding the Prince of course. One thing that Jon was grateful for was Steffon rarely required him to stand guard all day, and always made sure Jon had some time to himself each day. Now was one of those times, and Jon had chosen to visit his father. Needless to say, he'd been stunned when he learned of the crown's debt and the King's order to prepare a tourney anyway.

"Neither can I. I'm still worried over the distribution as well." Said Ned.

"What do you mean?" Asked Jon.

"I told you we're six million in debt. That's made up of 3 million to the Iron Bank, 2 million to Tywin Lannister and 1 million to other benefactors, including the Faith. If we can't pay back the Iron Bank, they may instead fund the surviving Targaryens. If we can't pay back the Faith, they may demand to restore the Faith Militant as payment. If we can't pay Tywin Lannister . . ." Ned trailed off. Tywin Lannister was a man to be feared, and Ned merely hoped that the long arm of the Old Lion didn't stretch too far. Jon for his part, looked equally worried about the matter.

"Is there any way we can pay them back?" Jon asked.

"From what I've seen, no. Robert's reign has been an expensive one, and this tourney will only add to it. Prince Steffon's already voiced his opposition to it, but Robert wouldn't listen."

"Surely Lord Baelish-"

"Prince Steffon has counselled me not to trust Lord Baelish. He has lived in the south more than you or I have. I'm inclined to trust the Prince, but not Baelish. In fact, the Prince has counselled me not to trust anyone at all." Ned explained, sighing. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

"Things were simpler in the North." Said Jon.

"Aye, Jon. That they were. It seems like everyone here's waiting to backstab everyone. I assume you know of my plans for Arya?"

"For her to accompany Steffon to Dragonstone? Yes, he told me this morning. The King's assigned Ser Barristan to accompany us."

"A little extra protection wouldn't go awry, especially with these debts."

* * *

The mood in Winterfell was a little fractured when Tyrion arrived. Robb was full of anger towards him, as he assumed a Lannister had thrown Bran from the towers. Bran was more restrained though; Myrcella's tales from King's Landing had helped to soften Bran's opinion towards him. The meeting had gone okay, but Tyrion had instead opted to stay at the nearby brothel. As of now, the blonde haired girl and brown haired boy were back in Bran's room, with Bran still resting on his bed. He was awake though, something that had relieved everyone in Winterfell.

"You really like reading, don't you Myrcella?" He asked. She was, yet again, reading one of her books.

"Yes, I do. I think I get that from uncle Tyrion. Then there's Steffon, he loves reading too."

"I know. He's going to drive Arya mad." Bran joked. The two chuckled a bit at that before Bran sobered up, and decided to get serious. He had to tell her, it was now or never. "Myrcella, there's something I need to tell you." He began.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Well, I have to admit that I have become . . . fond of you, but not as a friend. I know it's not appropriate for a secondborn son to say this to a princess, but-" Myrcella dived forward and pressed her lips to his. Bran was at first shocked, but slowly began to kiss back. The two broke apart soon after.

"I feel the same way about you Bran." She said, her eyes glowing. Bran went to pull her head down for a kiss again, before being interrupted.

"Alright, Stark, pay up." Theon said, holding out his hand. reluctant Robb then dropped a small bag of silver into his hand. The two were standing in the doorway, and had seen the whole thing.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask." Bran deadpanned.

* * *

Gendry was busy coaching the other recruits at Castle Black when Thorne walked over with another.

"What in Seven Hells is that?" Grenn asked, incredulously.

"They'll need an eighth hell to fit him in." Pyp responded. Gendry turned to see a man who was so fat and looked distinctly out of place at the Wall.

"Tell'em your name." Thorne said gruffly.

"Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill. Well I was of Horn Hill. I've come to take the black." He said. So he was a noble. _Wonder what he did to end up here_ thought Gendry.

"Come to take the black pudding!" Said Rast, laughing. _That was a bit uncalled for._

"Well you can't be any worse than you look. See what he can do." Said Thorne, signalling to Rast. Within seconds, Sam was on his back.

"I yield! Please, no more!" He begged. But Thorne wasn't the sort of person to let someone get away that easily.

"On your feet!" He shouted, but Tarly didn't move. "Hit him till he finds his feet." He ordered. Rast then beat Tarly with his sword. "Looks like they've run out of thieves and poachers down south. Now they send us squealing bloody pigs. Hit him harder." Rast was only too happy to oblige. Gendry however, couldn't let it continue. There was one rule in Flea Bottom: always protect your own. He may never have seen the Tarly boy in his life, but they were both to be a part of the Night's Watch.

"Enough!" Said Gendry, knocking aside Rast's sword. "He yielded." Throne merely scoffed in reply.

"Looks like the bastard's in love." He mocked "Alright then Waters, if you wish to defend your lady love, we'll make it an exercise". He signalled to Grenn, Pyp and Rast to attack Gendry first. In not time at all, Gendry had defeated the three of them without breaking a sweat. Thorne, clearly unhappy the Gendry had come out on top, barked out for the three to clean the armoury. The fat boy walked up to Gendry.

"My name's Sam, by the way. My mother called me Sam-"

"It won't get easier, Sam. You're going to have to defend yourself." Gendry replied, cutting Sam off.

"Why didn't you get up and fight?" Asked Grenn.

"I wanted to. I just couldn't"

"Why not?"

"I'm a coward." Sam admitted shamefully. "My father always says so." He continued. Gendry walked over to the armoury, retrieved a weapon and returned to Sam.

"They say a crossbow's a coward's weapon. Might as well learn how to use one. First, you put your foot in the stirrup, pull back the drawstring with both hands, load the bolt, aim and loose. You try." Said Gendry. Sam followed the instructions, but his shot went wide target's center, hitting the rim. "Might take a bit of practice, but you'll get there." Said Gendry. _It takes courage for a man to admit cowardice_ thought Gendry. _He might not have a warrior's courage, but he has another kind._

* * *

"It's the Hand's Tourney that's causing all the trouble, my Lords." Said Janos Slynt, Lord Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing. Ned sighed exasperatedly.

"The King's Tourney." He corrected, "I assure you, the Hand wants no part of it." Now, more than ever, he wished that Steffon were here, but the Prince was currently being trained by Jon. Ned chuckled inwardly at the irony of a prince learning swordsmanship from a bastard.

"Call it what you will, My Lord, but I'm going to need more men." Said Slynt.

"You'll get 50. Lord Baelish will see to it." Ned replied.

"I will?" Asked Littlefinger, slightly incredulously.

"You found money for a champion's purse. You'll find money to keep the peace. I'll also give you 20 of my Household Guard. Prince Steffon has also authorised 20 of his personal guard for the task."

"Thank you, my Lord Hand. They shall be put to good use." Said Slynt, bowing before leaving.

"The sooner this is over, the better." Said Ned.

"The realm prospers from such events, my lord." Varys began, "They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a reprieve from their woes."

"And every inn in the city is full. The whores are walking bow-legged." Said Littlefinger. The meeting was dismissed, but Ned retrieved a book from Pycelle before leaving. If Jon Arryn's death wasn't natural, then there was a murderer loose in King's Landing. As he walked back to the Tower of the Hand, he noticed Arya balancing on one foot. Noticing her father looking at her quizzically, she responded.

"Syrio says that a Water Dancer can stand on one foot for hours."

"Hard fall down these steps" Ned replied, amused.

"Syrio says every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better. Tomorrow, I'll be chasing cats." She said. "He says that every swordsman should study cats. They're quiet as shadows and light on their feet. You have to be fast to catch them." She replied, before getting down. She was relieved to hear that Bran had woken up, but a little disappointed that he wouldn't be coming south anytime soon. Plus there was that thing he had with Steffon's sister. Suddenly, her father asked a fairly awkward question.

"How do you feel about Steffon." He asked. Arya thought about it for a moment.

"Well . . . he's really nice, kind, caring, loyal and honourable. And I do like him. A lot." She said, blushing slightly, something Ned didn't fail to notice.

* * *

"That's it, Steffon. Thrust, upward cut, downward cut, middle cut, low cut, hanging parry, thrust. Well done." Said Jon He and Steffon had been training in the Red Keep courtyard for the last two hours or so. Jon had noticed that Steffon's skills with a sword were beginning to get better, despite the Prince's insistence he hadn't improved.

"Well I'm glad I did that right. I'm only any good with a bow." Steffon replied.

"That's good then. Someone gets past your arrows, you still have something to fight with." Said Jon.

"I suppose you're right. It's just annoying is all. Every noble's supposed to be a great swordsman, Princes doubly so. At best, I'm barely the equal of a common footsoldier; at worse, I'm no better than a peasant who's never held a sword in my life." Steffon said, slightly downcast.

"Steffon, you're a lot better than you think you are. Your strength's your brain. In swordsmanship, amateurs talk technique; professionals talk strategy. One thing you're good at is noticing weak spots. You just need to capitalise on that." Jon said, smiling slightly.

"Thanks Jon. You're dismissed for the res of the day. I promised I'd take Arya for a walk before dinner." Said Steffon, taking off the padding he had been wearing while they were training. As Jon left (probably to speak with his father), Steffon went off to find Arya. He found her balancing on one foot at the top of a small staircase in the Tower of the Hand.

"Arya, what are you doing?" He asked.

"Well obviously I'm planning to jump off this foot and out the window, plummeting to my death." She replied sarcastically. "I'm balancing on one foot, stag boy."

"I can see that, wolf girl. Anyway, you said you wanted a walk before dinner?"

"Yeah. You ready?" She asked.

"Of course I am. May I take your hand, Arya?" He asked politely.

"You may, Steffon." She replied, feeling his hand interlock with hers. The two walked along the walls of the Red Keep, overlooking the majestic ocean as the sun set. "Are you entering the jousting tomorrow?" She asked.

"Gods, no." he laughed "I'm no lancer. I am entering the melee and archery competition though. Jon thinks I'm getting better with a sword and I'm alright with a bow. If I can win at least one, then I'll be good for something." He said. This took Arya slightly aback.

"Do you not have a good opinion of yourself, Steffon?" She asked.

"To be honest, no. Pycelle calls it an inferiority complex, whatever that means. I can't help but feel that I let people down. My poor sword skills don't exactly impress my father, my appearance displeases my mother, I refused my grandfather's offer to become lord of Casterly Rock, which made him unhappy, I'm afraid that I'll mess this up between us. I'm afraid that one day, I'll mean nothing to a lot of people. I'm afraid of losing you, Arya. Not physically, but mentally." As Steffon said this, tears began to well in his eyes slightly. He was brought out of this by a sudden slap that echoed across the Keep. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Someone's got to smack some sense into you, stag boy. You mean a lot to a lot of people. You're always kind, you never say a mean word about anyone, and you believe in mercy. If you hadn't been at the Ruby Ford that day, I most likely would've killed Joffrey. You're a good person, Steffon. And if I have to smack you a few times to get that through your head, then I will. I care about you, Steffon. Quite a lot." She stopped there for fear of blurting out the 'L' word. Steffon stopped rubbing his cheek and looked at Arya.

"You mean that?" He asked.

"Of course I do, you silly boy." She replied. He took both of her hands in his.

"Then will you marry me for me? And not because our parents said so?" He asked.

" . . . Yes. Yes I will. As long as you say the same for me."

"Why wouldn't I? Arya, I thought you were stunning the first time I saw you. Now that I know you better, you're not just stunning on the outside, but the inside as well." He said, touching his forehead to hers. In a move that surprised both of them, Arya leaned forward and kissed him, and that's how they stood until the sun went down and they retired to their chambers.

* * *

From a window above them, Cersei had watched the whole exchange. How dare that wild northerner slap her son! What she saw next stunned her even more though; the two had kissed as the sun went down. Cersei would've laughed at the horribly cliched situation, if she wasn't alarmed by this. It would be much harder to break them apart now. Steffon was her son, and he didn't belong to anyone else.

 **And that's actually where I'll end it. Live long and prosper, my friends!**

 **Oh and before I forget . . . Bernie 2016!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello and welcome this chapter! Great response to the story so far, so please, continue to enjoy it!**

Steffon and Arya wandered out to the tourney grounds as the day began. Steffon had registered himself for both the archery tournament and the melee. He was never that much into jousting. To him, it was basically a test of who cold hold a pointed stick on target the longest. The archery contest was a proper test of skill and strength, as the standard Westerosi composite bow had an immense draw weight, but Steffon instead preferred the longbow. The longbow was used by Northern and Westerlands archers, and was more powerful and longer ranged than a composite bow, but the draw weight was even heavier. This was partly due to the fact that a composite bow was about half the size of a man, while a longbow was often around the size of man (or bigger, in some cases), which in turn led to the draw weight of 150 pounds. Steffon had improved his arm strength over the years, and only recently had been able to move a longbow to full draw.

The melee was more like an actual battle than anything else. The chaos, the sound of metal grinding against metal, the feel of accomplishment when doing well, all of it had sounded attractive to Steffon. Not as attractive as Arya was to him, but still. The two walked into the tent that Robert had ordered set up for his son. Arya gaped in amazement at the weapons and armour inside.

"Steffon, this is amazing!" She said.

"That's not even half of it, Arya. I had a new shield made for me last night. Here, I'll show you." Steffon said, walking over to a bag in the corner of the tent. He pulled his new shield out and showed Arya, causing her jaw to drop. The shield was made out of tough, hard oak, and was well-curved so that it could protect most of Steffon effectively. What had Arya in awe though, was the pattern painted on the front. The background of the shield was gold, with the black crowned stag facing left, and a black direwolf facing right.

"T-that's amazing, Steffon!" She gushed.

"I thought so too. My brother will be King one day, not me. So I figured I should develop my own personal sigil. And lo and behold, I did."

"I can see that. Why are the stag and the direwolf face outward though?" She asked, a bit puzzled.

"There's symbolism in that, Arya. It's meant to symbolise the stag and the wolf protecting each other. Fitting, seeing as I'm a stag, you're a wolf, and we always have each others' backs, don't you think?" He asked.

"Yeah. Though isn't that armour standard for Stormlands nobles?" She asked, pointing towards the bronze coloured armour on a stand in the corner opposite them **(think the armour Brienne wears in season 2, plus the helm she wore at Renly's tourney)**.

"Yes, but like I say, I'm not fond of decoration."

"But wouldn't that make things confusing on a battlefield?" She asked.

"That's why I had this made as well" He said, pulling out a second helmet from another bag. This helmet had no decoration on it, save for the stag antlers on the front **(google Stormlands burgonet. You'll see what I mean)**. "Most Stormlands soldiers have kettle helms. Knights usually wear ones like those over there." He pointed to the visored helmet that was on the stand. "But this is my personal design. I based it on the helms of the soldiers who serve uncle Stannis. All I did was have it painted bronze and stick a pair of antlers on the front. My longbow's nothing special either; it's essentially a standard Westerlands longbow." he said. Arya was still slightly shocked by the fact that a Prince could be so humble.

"You really don't like fanfare, do you?" She asked, smirking.

"No. It seems a bit pointless to me. Why spend money on pointless feasts and tourneys when there's people starving in the streets. This is exactly what I hoped to avoid two years ago." He responded. This puzzled Arya a little.

"What were you trying to do two years ago?" She asked.

"Well, I came up with this idea of a Senate. I based it on the systems the Free Cities have. You have ten people from each of the Seven Kingdoms, plus the Riverlands and Crownlands. They represent the interests of the people to the nobility."

"And who would lead this . . . um . . . Senate?"

"A Lord Chancellor of the Senate would be elected by a popular vote. He would sit on the Small Council, presenting the Senate's ideas to the King and Council for approval. Whenever he wasn't able to attend the Senate's meetings, his duties would be taken over by his assistant, the Warden of the Senate. They'd have a small military force, maybe about 1200 or so, called the Senate Guard; it'd mainly be for the protection of Senators, and would join nobles on occasion when the Senate voted to contribute to a war." Steffon explained.

"But 100 is an even number." Arya pointed out.

"Which is why in the event of a complete deadlock, the Warden casts the deciding vote. The Lord Chancellor can either then approve the motion and take it to the Small Council, or he can choose to void it. In that case, unless 60 Senators vote together to overrule him, the motion remains voided."

"This all seems unnecessary. Nothing would ever get done." Said Arya.

"Perhaps, but you must at least create the illusion that peasants have control over their lives. They outnumber us, you know." Steffon said.

"What did the King and Small Council say?" She asked.

"Varys and uncle Stannis spoke in support of it, Varys because he believed that the common people have a right to voice their ideas, and Stannis because to him, birth counts for little."

"And the others?"

"They laughed. Right in my face." He said sadly.

"Well that wasn't very nice of them." Arya said, sourly.

"I can't really blame them. I'm a forward-thinking person. They're afraid that if commoners get too much power, they'll start getting ideas over their heads."

"It's a good idea Steffon, even if they're too stupid to see it." Arya deadpanned. Steffon laughed. The young couple always knew how to make each other laugh. A servant stuck his head inside the tent.

"My Prince, the archery contest is about to begin." He said.

"Well that's my cue." Said Steffon, grabbing his longbow and a quiver of arrows. "You coming to watch, Arya?"

"Of course I am, stag boy."

"Glad to hear it, wolf girl" Steffon responded. She then kissed him, their lips melding effortlessly.

"For luck" She said after they broke apart.

"Thanks, Arya." He said, smiling. The couple walked out over to the archery field. _I'll win this,_ Steffon thought, _for Arya._

 **And chapter complete! I know, I know, it's been awhile, but Uni has been a bit of a pain in my arse, but now I'm on my break, I intend to update as much as possible.**

 **And oh my God, is the show getting really good or what?! You know how episode 9 is usually the one where D &D go berserk, well I know what the 9th episode's title is (it was leaked). I won't put it up here, but you can guess or ask in a PM and I'll tell you.**

 **By the way, this may seem a bit egotistical, but I do want to see this story grow. So, I am putting out an official request for anyone who is interested in producing fanart for this story.**

 **As always, auf wiedersehen mein fruends!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello and welcome this chapter! I like the response to the story so far, and am loving writing it. Sorry for the wait; we had our Federal Election recently, and I stood to be a Representative. I lost, but anyway.**

 **Anyway, let's begin!**

Steffon drew back the bowstring and released. The arrow flew straight and true into the center of the target in front of him. The crowd cheered for the Prince; it was always exciting to see a member of the royal family do well. Steffon looked over to one of the stands to see his beautiful betrothed clapping and smiling. He smiled back at her, that one action conveying a thousand words.

The archery contest had been going on since mid-morning, and was considered a side event to the jousting, the main event. Most had already left to see the initial tilts, and only a few had stayed to watch the archery. _No matter;_ Steffon had thought. _Never liked crowds anyway._

His opponent released his own arrow, and it hit one of the inner circles. Steffon had won this match. He shook hands with his opponent, then went off to find Arya. There was a twenty minute break before the final, so he had some time to spare. He found her standing near the entrance to one of the stands. The couple hugged tightly (it was their standard greeting by this point) before breaking apart.

"That was amazing Steffon! You'll win for sure!" Arya beamed.

"I'm not so certain, Arya. That Anguy bloke's been out-archering everyone." Steffon replied.

"Out-archering? Didn't know that was a word." Arya said, smiling a little.

"Well, it is now." Steffon responded, hugging Arya again.

"Well I am glad you two are getting along." Said someone. The two broke from their hug to see none other than Queen Cersei herself approaching them.

"Mother, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you'd be over at the jousting." Steffon said, moving his hand to hold Arya's, who didn't resist. Cersei stopped herself from flashing a look at her son.

"I had heard that you had made the archery final. Why would I not support my son?" She asked rhetorically. The young couple looked at each other before shrugging. Arya didn't exactly have a soft spot for the Queen, but it wasn't her place to stop his mother from attending.

"Well we do have a short break before the final, mother. Shall we walk in my tent?" He asked. Cersei nodded, and followed her son to his tent.

* * *

The courtyard at Ironrath rang with the sound of steel on steel. Rodrik Forrester, the heir to Ironrath, was sparring with Gared Tuttle, the squire to Ironrath's lord, Gregor Forrester. Watching from the side was Ironrath's Master-at-Arms, Ser Royland Degore, Duncan Tuttle, Gared's uncle and Ironrath's Castellan, the Forrester children, Ethan, Ryon and Talia, Elissa Forrester, the Lady of Ironrath, and Lord Forrester himself.

Gared parried an incoming attack from Rodrik before attempting a counterattack, to which Rodrik parried in kind before elbowing Gared in the gut, knocking him to the ground. He pointed the blade of the dull practice sword at Gared's throat.

"You're getting better, Gared, but you've still got a long way to go." Rodrik said, helping Gared up.

"Give it time, and I'll be better than you, Rodrik!" Gared joked.

"Maybe when Robert Baratheon's secondborn is King!" Rodrik joked back. The two Northmen laughed momentarily, before heading off. Gared needed to tend to Ironbreaker, the ancestral greatsword of House Forrester. The weapon was not made of Valyrian steel like the Starks' greatsword, Ice, but it was still exceptionally sharp; it was said the Forresters had wielded it since the times when the North was divided into dozens of petty kingdoms.

Gared found Ironbreaker in the armoury. He broke out a cloth and began cleaning the weapon. He found it strangely therapeutic; cleaning Ironbreaker. One day, he'd hopefully own a sword just like it.

"Gared?" He heard someone ask. He turned around to see Talia standing in the doorway to the armoury.

"You shouldn't be here, Talia. Armoury's not a place for ladies." He said.

"I don't care. You're actually getting pretty good with a sword, Gared. You nearly outfought Rodrik just then!"

"Rodrik's this house's best fighter by far. Like he said, the day I'll be better than him is the day King Robert's secondborn succeeds him." Gared responded. Talia chuckled lightly. He smiled at her gently, to which she smiled back. The two were sharing a tender moment until Bowen, being his usual self, interrupted them.

"Oi! Gared! Lord Forrester wants you." Bowen said.

"Alright Bowen, I'm coming." Gared replied. He set the huge sword back on its rack, and walked out of the armoury, flashing another smile at Talia, causing her to blush slightly.

* * *

Anguy and Steffon were eventually called out for the final. After a short kiss, Steffon headed onto the field and Arya, along with Cersei headed to the stands. Steffon grabbed his longbow, quiver of arrows and headed onto the field. Anguy was already set up. The judge had them shake hands and then move to their respective position.

Anguy was the first to shoot. He nocked his arrow, drew back the bowstring, and released. The arrow landed dead center of Anguy's target, prompting a polite clap from the crowd. Steffon nocked, drew and released his first arrow, which also landed in the center.

This remained the pattern for the next 18 arrows. The two's arrows wold both hit the bullseye of the target. Until Anguy made a small mistake. He'd drawn back his bowstring, but held it for too long at full draw. When he released it, it skewed off to the side a fraction, colliding with the innermost circle. All Steffon had to do now was hit the bullseye and he'd won the archery contest. He nocked his twentieth and final arrow, drew back the string, and loosed the arrow. It flew straight and true, actually splitting one of his previous arrows in half. Steffon looked stunned; splitting an arrow with another arrow was virtually unheard of, and was a one-in-a-million shot. The small crowd cheered for the Prince.

Anguy came up to shake the Prince's hand. "No-one's ever managed to outshoot me before. My congratulations, my Prince." He said.

"Mine too, Anguy; you've performed well all day." Steffon replied.

"You did better. Not to mention that you actually managed to split an arrow. It's said that splitting an arrow is a skill only the greatest marksmen achieve. You've definitely earned your place among them today, my Prince." Anguy said. Steffon bowed his head at the praise. The judge then came up and presented the trophy to Steffon: A golden arrow, with stag's antlers forming the point. Not wanting to stick around for the elongated ceremony, Steffon left quickly, encountering Arya and his mother while leaving.

"Steffon, that was amazing!" Said Arya. She gave him a gentle peck on the lips in congratulations. Cersei forced a smile at them.

"Yes, very well done my son. Your father would be proud, if he were here." Said Cersei. Steffon suppressed a sigh. His mother never missed a chance to try and show up his father.

"Father is at the jousting mother. It would be wrong for the King to be anywhere else." He countered. She smiled at him again before excusing herself. As she was leaving Arya frowned slightly. "What's wrong, Arya?" He asked.

"Your mother and I . . . Steffon, we just don't get along." She replied.

"What? Why?"

Arya took a deep breath and recounted their conversation during the final . . .

* * *

 _During the archery final_

Arya and Cersei had taken their seats right up the front row. Arya knew that Sansa was at the jousting; her silly little tales of knights in shining armour making her giggle a little, especially when she thought about the time when Steffon had told her where the term "knight in shining armour" came from. He'd explained that the term was actually meant as an insult to newly-minted knights, whose armour would be bright and shining, thus displaying that they hadn't gone into battle yet.

"Do you love my son, Lady Arya?" She heard Cersei ask. Arya turned to the Queen of Westeros.

"Um . . . I think I do. I'm not sure." She responded, confused. Yes she did have strong feelings for Steffon, and she had developed them in a short time. In fact, she was slightly stunned about how quickly her feelings for him had developed; it was almost as if some shoddy writer had tried to develop a romance between two characters too fast.

"I don't think that the answer Steffon wants." Cersei said. "I happen to think you're just marrying him to take advantage of his kind nature; either that or you just don't want to upset your father." She continued, rather cruelly. "Either way, you're not very happy with this marriage, that I can tell." She finished, twisting the metaphorical knife a little more. _If I had Needle with me . . ._ Arya thought.

"You're wrong! I do care for your son, a lot. What I feel for Steffon is something I've never felt for anyone before." Arya responded. _Gods, I sound like Sansa_ she thought. Oh well, she never had a problem with telling the truth. Steffon did make her feel things she'd never felt before; feelings she didn't even know existed. She had no idea what they were, but by the Gods she never wanted them to end.

"I doubt that. You two avoided each other like the plague when your betrothal was announced in Winterfell."

"That was months ago! We've come a long way since then!" Arya said, her voice rising. Cersei laugh humourlessly.

"No couple could have come that far in mere months." She said. For her and Robert, it'd never happened.

"You're wrong, okay / You're just wrong. I do have feelings for your son! I don't know what those feelings are, but I am only 14 and no boy's ever paid attention to me before. I was always Arya Horseface or some other stupid name they'd come up with for me. You wouldn't know what that's like though; you've always had men lusting after you. Steffon, he . . . he makes me feel . . . I don't know what he makes me feel, but I know it's a good feeling. I know you hate the thought of us being together, but honestly, I don't care. Say what you like, do what you want; I don't care! You know why I don't care? Because no matter what, I'll be at his side for as long as I can be." Arya's tirade left Cersei momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected this famously wild Northern girl to come up with such a defence of her feelings for Steffon.

The two turned back to the final, just in time to see Steffon split the arrow. Arya was smirking triumphantly; her betrothed had won the archery contest and she had successfully defended her feelings about Steffon. What was there not to be happy about?

* * *

"That's not right. My mother shouldn't be speaking to you like that, Arya." Steffon said, concerned for his betrothed.

"No harm done. If she does try to drive a wedge between us, then she's going to have a hard time of it." She responded. Steffon chuckled; he hoped Arya would never lose that side of her. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers, to which she responded. Just as the kiss began to get a little heated, they were interrupted by a fake cough.

Steffon, Arya; I've been asked to escort you to the jousting." Said Jon, a small smirk on his face. The two joined their hands and followed Jon to the jousting area, taking a seat with the Starks. Steffon didn't want to sit near his mother or brother; not after the confrontation that had occurred between Arya and his mother.

The two were meant to be watching the jousts, but really, they spent more time kissing and talking gently to each other than watching. Ned and Robert had both noticed with approval that the two were getting closer. Sansa meanwhile, reacted with typical arrogance, barely even noticing them.

* * *

 _Dragonstone, Blackwater Bay_

Stannis Baratheon sat in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Despite what people thought of him, the Lord of Dragonstone did have an admiration for history's great works, and to this day day, found himself often marvelling at the Painted Table; after all, Aegon had used it to plan the War of Conquest, nearly 300 years ago. He found it oddly calming; sort of like his nephew's fondness for wearing padded armour a lot of the time. _We all have our quirks, I suppose,_ he thought.

"My Lord," Said someone. Stannis snapped his head up to see none other than Ser Davos Seaworth approaching him, holding a letter in his hand.

"Ser Davos. What is it?" Stannis asked.

"A raven from King's Landing. I . . . I was unable to read it, my Lord, so I brought it to you." Davos answered. Stannis took the letter and read it.

"My nephew Steffon and his betrothed will be joining us within a few days, Ser Davos. They're being accompanied by Ser Barristan Selmy and this . . . Jon Snow; Eddard Stark's bastard son. They'll wait out the tourney, then board a ship that'll bring them here."

"Well anyone else be accompanying them, my Lord?"

"A handful of Stark and Baratheon guardsmen. And this . . . Syrio Forel. A Braavosi swordmaster, apparently hired by Steffon to teach his betrothed the art of swordfighting." Stannis said, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

"I've never heard of a woman wanting to fight, my Lord." Davos said.

"Aegon the Conqueror's sisters fought at his side." Stannis replied.

"So your daughter tells me, my Lord. If you'll pardon me my Lord, I'd best be going."

"Of course, Ser Davos." Stannis replied. Davos bowed and left, leaving Stannis to his thoughts. _Shireen will be overjoyed to see Steffon again,_ he thought.

 _But what of Lord Arryn's death?_ A voice in his head asked him. That was the real question. Lord Arryn had discovered something in his final days; Stannis knew it. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

 **And another chapter gone! So we get the first appearances from House Forrester and Stannis. Just FYI, the Forresters will feature prominently in this story, largely due to their Ironwood and because I like them :)**

 **So, Cersei and Arya have their first conversation; Stannis discovers when Steffon intends to visit; we have a budding romance between Gared and Talia (yes I interpreted that from their interactions in the game and will not aplogise for pairing them together); Steffon wins the archery contest; and season 1 Sansa is still very much season 1 Sansa.**

 **Oh and one last thing, who can spot the fourth wall joke I made in this chapter? Shoutouts to those who find it and list it in their review.**

 **And finally . . . #thestarksarebackintown**

 **Auf wiedersehen!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello and welcome this chapter!**

 **So um, I've been following the US election, and well, I have an observation: Trump seems to be imploding with the force of a 20 megaton nuke. Seriously, I've never seen anything go downhill this fast, and MSN only went zip a few years ago. Hiyo!**

 **In nay case, I'm to largely be glossing over the next few episodes of the season, mainly because the big events in season 1 in King's Landing are about to happen, and Steffon and Arya are headed for Dragonstone. We'll also have our first encounter with a Wight.**

 **By the way, I'll be doing a Q &A next chapter, so leave any questions you have about the story or me in your review, and I'll be sure to answer them.**

The tourney was over, finally. Steffon and Arya were now packing for their trip to Dragonstone. Steffon was excited to be able to see his cousin Shireen again, and Arya just wanted to get away from King's Landing. After all, Steffon had told her that Davos Seaworth, one of Stannis' closest advisors, was once a commoner. _That_ was impressive; for a noble to acknowledge someone else as the equal of other nobles.

For the moment however, Arya and Sansa were being given a stern talking-to by their father. Ned hadn't been impressed when a few days ago the girls had gotten into a fight when Sansa had insulted Steffon to Arya's face. Arya being Arya, she immediately struck Sansa, causing a fight to break out. It had only ended when Jon forced them apart. Steffon had been talking with his father at the time. Now though, both of the Stark daughters were being rebuked for their behaviour.

"Arya, you know striking your sister is bad." Ned said, exasperated. _Why can't these two just be good sisters for once?_

"But she called Steffon a milksop and a liar!" Arya responded angrily.

"He is! My Prince Joffrey is brave, decisive and honest! Steffon's not!" Sansa responded, still nursing the bruise on her cheek.

"Enough, both of you! You're acting like petulant children." Ned interjected.

"I don't know why you'd have Arya marry into the Baratheons, father. I was born to marry Joffrey, I always was going to marry Joffrey! I was going to be his Queen and he was going to be my lion and I was going to give him babies with beautiful golden hair" Sansa protested.

"He's not a lion, silly. He's a stag, like his father and brother." Arya responded, defending her soon-to-be family.

"No he's not; he's nothing like that drunk brute and that liar." Sansa continued.

"Steffon is not a liar! He's one of the most honourable people here! He's brave, kind, caring, one of the best people I've ever met, and I love him!" Arya responded passionately, not regretting she had said the word love. Sansa merely scoffed.

"You don't know what love is; you're too young. I do know what it is and I know that I love Joffrey!"

"I know more about it than you do! You and your silly fantasies of knights in shining armour. By the way, that term is meant as an _insult!_ I love Steffon and he loves me."

"Please, how could he fall in love with you, Arya Horseface?!" Sansa responded, her anger showing through.

"Sansa! Do not call your sister that again!" Ned thundered. "There are simply things about Joffrey that you don't know, Sansa. I decided that having you betrothed to Joffrey was against your interest. I betrothed Arya to Steffon because Robert insisted our houses be joined and it was the best option available. They have become nearly inseparable, too. Apologise to your sister, now." Ned ordered. Sansa muttered an insincere apology before excusing herself, leaving Arya and Ned alone. "Note that this does not absolve you of any blame, Arya. You need to get your temper under control. We're not in the North anymore, do you understand?" Ned asked gently. Arya nodded in reply. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Enter." Ned responded. The door was opened to reveal Jon.

"Father, Steffon sent me to retrieve Arya. They're just about ready to leave."

"As is Arya. Am I right?" Asked Ned, receiving a nod from his younger daughter in reply. He had already spoken to Steffon that day., warning him there would be dire consequences if anything unbecoming happened between him and Arya, to which Steffon had fearfully nodded.

Jon and Arya grabbed her things, and after a final goodbye kiss to her father, left the Tower of the Hand. Little did any of them know, it would be the last time they would see each other.

* * *

It was night at Castle Black. Gendry was up tending to the Lord Commander's armour. _Bloody Thorne; he always hated me, now he's made sure I get Steward._ He thought. Still, he had to admit he was a little surprised when Lord Commander Mormont had requested Gendry be his personal Steward. Maybe the Lord Commander had saw something in him? He didn't know. What he did know was that Mormont was planning a large ranging beyond the Wall in the weeks to come. It would be a big one, Gendry guessed; they needed to find out what happened to Bejen Stark's lost patrol, as well as find out more about this King Beyond the Wall they kept hearing about.

What disturbed Gendry most was that a patrol had recovered the bodies of a Ranger that had died some time ago. Problem is, the Ranger was supposed to have died some time ago, yet was barely decomposed at all. Oh well; none of his business.

He left the cot he'd been assigned to return Mormont's brigandine. He shivered as he stepped into the cold. _I'll never get used to this weather_ he thought. Eventually, he reached the Lord Commander's room.

"Lord Commander, I have your armour here!" He said. No response. Gendry got the sneaking suspicion that something was wrong. He set the brigandine down and used his left hand to loosen his sword in the scabbard, which would make it easier to draw. He opened the door, his right hand sliding to the hilt of his weapon. "Hello?" he asked as he moved forward. He heard a banging "Who's there?" he asked. No response. "Lord Commander?" he asked. Still no response. Suddenly, the door behind him shut. As he turned around, he saw a figure move towards him. It was the dead Ranger. _It can't be! He's dead!_ Gendry thought, yet here that Ranger was, staring him in the face.

The corpse pushed him up against the wall violently. Gendry drew his dagger and tried stabbing the man, to no effect. Gendry managed to fight his way out of the corpse's grip and draw his sword. His slash cut off the corpse's hand, but the injury had no visible effect. The corpse tried choking him, pushing him against the door, but Gendry was ble to thrust his sword through the corpse's belly, causing it to drop.

"Gendry?" Asked Mormont, who had emerged from his bedchamber with a lamp.

"Lord Commander!" Shouted Gendry, moving towards Mormont. The corpse stood up again, removed the sword, and started approaching them. Acting quickly, Gendry grabbed the lamp, causing a searing pain on his hand, and threw it at the corpse, which fell down screaming and Gendry and Mormont hurried out the room.

"What in Seven Hells was that, Lord Commander?" Gendry asked.

"I don't know Gendry, but whatever it was, I'm certain we'll see it's kind again."

* * *

It was only a short trip by sea to Dragonstone; a few hours, no more. Jon, Barristan and Syrio stood at the bow of the ship, making idle conversation between themselves. The deck was scattered with Steffon's personal guard; around fifty Baratheon knights made up this guard, and around thirty were with them at the moment. Arya and Steffon themselves were below deck, testing the virtues of the Braavosi Water Dance against the Westerosi swordfighting. They quickly learnt that Arya was the more agile of the two, with Steffon barely keeping up, before Arya hit him for what felt like the millionth time in a row.

"Ha! I win again, stag boy!" She bragged to him.

"Yes, yes, of course, wolf girl." He responded with a smirk, earning him a playful smack on the shoulder. "You're a lot faster than I thought." He said.

"Well, the Water Dance is built around speed and agility; you're used to wearing armour and fighting opponents who wear armour." Arya responded. "You're a lot smarter that you get credit for though. Like Jon said your brain moves fast, so you can out-think your opponent." She continued. Steffon nodded, grabbing the two of them cups of water. They were both sweating like mad; it was particularly hot today. _Hotter than usual,_ thought Steffon, who then removed his tunic, revealing his torso to Arya for the first time. Arya blushed a little.

"I'll just go and throw on another tunic, if that's okay." He said.

"I don't know . . . I quite like the view now." She said, looking him up and down. Steffon rolled his eyes and went to get changed. Arya set about cleaning up the area they'd been practice fighting in. She'd just put away the last drill sword when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and familiar lips attached themselves to her neck. "Steffon . . . don't do that . . . you know it makes me weak" She said.

"Mmhm. That's why I'm doing it, wolf girl." Steffon responded, his lips trailing up her neck before latching onto a sensitive spot under her ear, causing her to whimper like a little girl. He continued his ministrations for a little, until she regained her senses and pushed him onto a bench.

"Two can play at that game, young stag." She said in her best seductive voice, sending a tremble up Steffon's spine. She straddled him and began kissing his neck. He groaned in pleasure when she kissed his earlobe. _Hmm. I'll have to remember he likes that._ She thought to herself. Steffon's hands slid down to her hips as Arya broke the kisses against his neck to kiss him properly. Their lips joined together in practiced confidence. Steffon began rubbing her hip, causing her to whimper slightly. The two continued their kissing session until they broke apart for air.

"That was . . . amazing, Arya." Steffon said, as his own blue eyes (which he'd inherited from his great grandmother, Rhalle Targaryen) met the cloud grey eyes that had graced the Starks since time immemorial.

"That it was, Steffon." She responded. As much as she wanted to go further, she knew they couldn't. They weren't married yet, and Steffon's honour would stop him.

"How about another practice fight then, wolf girl? Winner gets to be first on Dragonstone." Steffon asked.

"Oh you're on, young stag!"

 **And there you have it. So, our first encounter with a wight, Arya and Steffon becoming a little more *ahem* warm in their affections, and season 1 Sansa is . . . well . . . season 1 Sansa.**

 **I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter, and remember to leave a question for the Q &A next chapter. See ya folks!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello and welcome this chapter!**

 **So I'm back! It has been a while, but I've had a good reason. Uni assignments have been picking up, so updates will be intermittent at best. Anyway, I had only 1 question for the Q &A! One! So I will me extending it until Chapter 15.**

 **Anyway the question is from Termin8r, who's been with this story from the beginning, so they have my thanks. Anyway, the question is: "What inspired you to make Steffon the way he is? Did you have a base character in mind?"**

 **A great question, Termin8r. Steffon takes inspiration from several different people and characters. A major factor was The Walking Dead's Rick Grimes, who starts the show with a very strong moral compass which gradually deteriorates over time. There's also, Asa's own character, Ender from Ender's Game was a big factor too, largely due to their shared brilliance as commanders but lack of personal fighting ability. This is also where Steffon gets his naivety from.**

 **The biggest one though was Julius Caesar. The two are both from prestigious families, excellent battlefield commanders who rely on a series of brilliant subordinates, have sympathy for the poor, and are populist reformers. The similarities end there though. Caesar was the consummate politician, able to scheme and manipulate his way to being appointed Dictator for Life shortly before his death. Steffon on the other hand, does not possess the same political skill as Caesar, instead relying on more politically-inclined supporters for that (the biggest ones of which will become apparent as the story continues). Caesar also knew the value of PR; he knew how to play up his victories and downplay his defeats. Steffon doesn't, this again being due to his naivety. Steffon will also not be stabbed 33 times by his friends and allies, namely because that would be a dick move on my part.**

 **Anyway, with that out the way, let us proceed!**

 _Dragonstone, late afternoon_

The ship docked soon after. As the small party disembarked, Steffon noticed a familiar face awaiting them.

"Ser Davos! Great to see you again!" He beamed.

"You too, my Prince. It has been a very long time, indeed." Davos responded, smiling.

"Oh, where are my manners? This is Jon Snow, Syrio Forel, you already know Ser Barristan, and this is my lovely betrothed, Lady Arya Stark." Said Steffon, introducing them one by one, before taking Arya's hand into his own.

"I'm not a lady" Arya muttered under her breath.

"Well we really must get going, my Prince. It gets quite cold after dark here" Davos said. "Besides, your uncle and cousin are awaiting you." Steffon's eyes lit up at that. He hadn't seen Shireen in a long time, and was eager to do so again. He and his group followed Davos and the squad of his uncle's soldiers up to the castle. Steffon led them in to find his uncle awaiting them.

"My Prince. It is good to see you again." The famously stone-faced Stannis Baratheon said.

"I'm your nephew, you may call me such. This is Jon Snow, Syrio Forel and my wife-to-be, Arya Stark." Steffon said, taking Arya's hand and kissing it as he introduced her, causing her to blush slightly.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Stark." Stannis said. Arya was about to say that she didn't want to be a Lady, but bit her tongue. This man was Steffon's uncle, and the Master of Ships besides.

"And you too, Lord Stannis" She said, remembering her courtesies. She may not be a lady, but a person deserved to be addressed by their title. Stannis simply nodded in reply before turning to his nephew.

"My Prince, Shireeen wants to see you." He said.

"Naturally. I have a little gift for her too. Come Arya, shall we say hello to my cousin?" He asked.

"Yes we shall!" She giggled. Steffon took her hand nad led her through the castle, before arriving at the door to Shireen's room.

"Now I should tell you, Arya, Shireen suffered from Greyscale as a youth. You know what that is?" He asked.

"I have some sort of idea. It's a disease that turns your skin grey, isn't it?"

"Basically. Pycelle calls it a form of necrosis, whatever that is. It leaves flesh stiff and dead, skin cracked and flaking and feels and looks like stone. Stannis sent for every healer he could find, but in the end, it was the liberal consumption of limes, mustard poultices and scalding-hot baths that saved her. However, the aftereffects are still there. The left side of her face is covered in dead, cracked grey skin. Just try not to stare at it, okay?"

"Okay" She replied.

"Right then. Let's say hello." He said opening the door to see Shireen reading one of her many books near the window. As the daughter of Stannis Baratheon turned to see Steffon and Arya, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.

"Steffon!" She cried happily, running into his arms and embracing him.

"Hello again, Shireen." He said, embracing her before breaking apart. "How's my cousin doing?" He asked.

"Well, mother doesn't let me out of this room. Not that I mind though; more time for reading!" She said happily. This alarmed Steffon slightly; who in their right mind would keep their daughter locked in her room? The fact that she hadn't gone mad was a testament to Shireen's mental fortitude.

"Speaking of reading, have a look at what I got you." He said, pulling out a copy of _The Dance of the Dragons: A True Telling_. Shireen squealed excitedly, happy to finally have her hands on the book. "And allow me to introduce you to my betrothed, Arya Stark of Winterfell." He said, moving her forward slightly. Shireen turned to her.

"Hello, I'm Shireen, this idiot's cousin."

"Oi!" Steffon shouted indignantly, causing the girls to laugh.

"You're really pretty." Shireen continued, causing Arya to blush slightly. "You'll make this halfwit happy."

"Oh, come on!" Steffon shouted again

"I hope I will, my Lady. He makes me happy." Arya replied to Shireen.

"I hope he does; he wouldn't be able to find anyone else to marry him."

"Oh really, cousin? The Garson girl seemed to like me." Steffon responded.

"Until you dumped wine on her head." Shireen replied.

"Two things: One, it was a complete accident, two, it happened one time! One time!"

"I know, but it didn't do you many favours. I just hope Lady Arya here doesn't suffer the same fate." Shireen said, still teasing him. Steffon sighed, giving up. The young Baratheon girl then opened her book and began reading.

"Don't bother trying to start a conversation now, Arya. When Shireen gets a new book and starts reading it, you have no chance. Come on, I'll show you my favourite room." Said Steffon taking Arya's hand and leaving room. Moments later, the two had arrived at his favourite room. Arya looked around to see a giant painted table cut in the shape of Westeros. "This is called the Chamber of the Painted Table," Said Steffon, "This was the room where Aegon planned his conquest of Westeros with his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys." He said. Arya was in awe of the table; it was massive! As she looked out the window, she could see ships come and go as the sun descended. As she was marveling at the sight, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"It's beautiful." She said.

"Yes it is. Almost as beautiful as you." Steffon replied.

"That was a little hackneyed, Steffon."

"Perhaps, but it is true." He shot back. Arya turned around so she could face him, and pecked his lips slightly. This grew and grew until Arya found herself pressed up against the wall with Steffon's lips attached to her neck. She still didn't understand how Steffon was able to have this power over her; no one had ever been able to reduce her to a mess before. _Until now_. she thought. It was at this point the Stark girl got a cheeky idea. Experimentally, she arched her back, causing Steffon's entire body to stiffen **(pun intended)** for just a moment. Long enough. She grabbed Steffon by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, before kissing him again. The kissing began to get slightly more heated when they were interrupted.

"Steffon, Arya, Lord Stannis says it's time for-oh Gods!" Jon exclaimed, covering his eyes as the young couple hastily pulled apart. "Lord Stannis says it's time for dinner. And please don't let me see that again." Said Jon, leaving the room in a hurry. The two lovers smiled sheepishly at each other before darting off to get chgned for dinner. While Steffon threw on his trousers and leather doublet with the Baratheon stag embroidered on the chest, Jon somehow managed to force Arya into a dress (which she was very unhappy about). As the two sat down at the dinner table with Stannis, his wife Selyse, Shireen, Davos, his son Matthos and a woman wearing a red dress. _She might be attractive_ , Steffon thought of the woman in the red dress, _but Arya's downright beautiful_. He didn't care if Arya was unhappy wearing a dress; she looked stunning in it.

As the highborn residents of Dragonstone carved through their food, Steffon got fed up with the silence and decided to strike up a conversation.

"So uncle, you never did tell me why you left King's Landing." He said. Stannis turned to him.

"I had matters to attend to on Dragonstone. Selyse and Davos can only do so much." Stannis replied.

"It would be easier if he could read." Selyse muttered. Steffon pretended he hadn't heard her.

"Yes, after all, I'm a smuggler by birth. I can't even read." Davos said

"I'll teach you, Onion Knight." Shireen chimed in "I can help you. Besides, you won't be a very good knight if you keep saying ka-niggit all the time." She continued. Davos smiled warmly at her.

"Perhaps you could read the holy texts that Lady Melisandre has with her father-" Matthos started before Stannis interrupted him.

"I do not want a religious debate at my dinner table. Save it for later." Stannis said, with his typical air of authority. They ate in silence for the rest of the meal. Steffon noticed the red-clad woman, whom he assumed was Lady Melisandre, staring creepily at him. Oh well, he wasn't going to ask; he hated religious debates too. Soon, dinner was over and everyone retired to their rooms. Steffon and Arya had been given a shared bed chamber, as Jon and Stannis trusted them enough; what with Steffon's sense of honour and all. Jon however, unable to sleep was out walking the battlements with Ser Barristan and Syrio. Jon enjoyed their company. The three of them were warriors through and through. Perhaps this was the reason for their bond.

"The Prince and Lady Arya seem to be getting along well for a couple who couldn't stand each other just a few months ago." Said Barristan, as the three overlooked the harbour from the battlements.

"Indeed. Your sister cares for her Stag Prince greatly. Her main motivation in training now is to protect him." Syrio responded, causing a light chuckle from the three of them.

"It's the same with Steffon; he wants nothing more than to protect her." Said Jon.

"Of course he does," Ser Barristan replied. "It's in his nature. The boy wants to protect everyone. He's a man of peace. In an ideal world, he'd be the perfect leader. Unfortunately, the world we live in is far from ideal. He can't stand to see suffering, yet he sees it everywhere he goes. He can't stand people who fight or manipulate for their own gain, yet everyone does it. But, he's young and idealistic. He mustn't lose that idealism too soon; otherwise he'll become a cynic, and cynical leaders are bad ones." He finished. Syrio and Jon nodded silently, pondering Barristan's words. _I swear to all the Gods,_ thought Jon, _I'll make sure that boy stays an idealist_

* * *

Steffon and Arya were lying in their bed, with the covers pulled right up. It did get rather cold after dark at Dragonstone.

"Steffon?" She asked.

"Yes, love?"

"Why do you care about me so much?" She asked.

"Are we really doing this now?"

"Yes, we are."

"Alright then." Steffon sighed before launching into his spiel again. "Arya, I don't just care about you; I love you. I love you, Arya Stark. I love the way you're not like other noble ladies. Most of them would rather sit at home doing embroidery or some other stupid thing. I can't stand that. It's why my father and mother refrained from trying to find a betrothal for me for two years. They were concerned I'd make my wife's life a living hell. But not you, Arya. You're my type exactly. You're tough, you're smart, you're kind, and quite frankly, I think you're the most beautiful girl in Westeros; possibly even in the entire Known World."

"That's probably pushing it, Steffon."

"Maybe, but you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Sansa has nothing on you; you're much better-looking than her. Not to mention that you're not afraid to get messy when needs be." Steffon continued, bringing their foreheads together. "I love you, Arya Stark, and I don't want anyone else." He finished.

"I love you too, Steffon Baratheon. And I feel the exact same way about you." She replied, before Steffon kissed her. It wasn't a hurried, heated kiss like earlier; this was slow, passionate, and loving. The two held it for a while before breaking apart for air to see themselves smiling at one another lovingly.

"I think it's time we got some rest. Goodnight, my Wolf Girl."

"Goodnight, my Stag Boy." Arya replied, settling her head on his shoulder.

 **Awwwh. Wasn't that cute, people?**

 **I know we haven't had much action so far, but don't worry, things will be going down in the next few chapters. I just wanted to give a glimpse of how Steffon interacts with Stannis' family.**

 **And should I have more conversations with Jon, Barristan and Syrio? They seem like a natural group if you ask me; all fierce warriors, all fiercely loyal.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to post a question for the Q &A. Auf wiedersehen! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello and welcome this chapter!**

 **So I'm back! Good news is, there will be many updates over the next couple of days, as I am also trying to focus on my crossover story with AnabellaHunter13. Again, please check out the story on her profile.**

 **Anyway, Termin8r once again was the only one to submit a question. C'mon guys, more than one person needs to do the lifting here!**

 **The question is: What would you say in YOUR opinion makes Steffon and Arya work as a couple? Not to make you look back at how others stated in the past, but what do you think the two share that they love about each other? What is their reason for saying "I love him/her"?**

 **A great question, mate. My personal opinion is that it has a lot to do with two main things. The first is Steffon's nature. He's a kind, caring young man, but at the same time, he's no pushover. When he does get angry, he gets really angry (as you'll see soon enough). I did mention earlier in the story that he was drawn to Arya because of her tomboyishness, rather than repelled.**

 **The second is Arya's own nature. She's the sort of person who doesn't give up easily, and is more of a I-don't-like-it-but-I'll-make-do type of person. That's originally how their relationship started. She was also impressed with his willingness to forgive (reference chapter 6), as well as his disdain of the so-called moral superiority of the nobility and his concern over the poor and his desire to improve their lives. The big one though is Steffon's progressive ideals for the time he's in. He believes that everyone really is created equal, regardless of gender, skin colour or sexual orientation. We saw earlier in the story that he's more than willing to facilitate Arya's desire to be a swordfighter. In a medieval society like Westeros, which, let's not kid ourselves, is a very much a sexist, homophobic, autocratic society, his views would be considered to be very far left, and this loops back to my Caesar inspiration. Caesar and Steffon both genuinely believe that the lives of the poor need to be improved, but as we will see, there are those who view them as making a cynical play for support among the commoners.**

 **All in all, the two were finally able to reconcile their difference and are beginning to fall for each other. I say that because when you're at their age, you tend to think that your first boyfriend/girlfriend is going to be the one. Now obviously they're betrothed to be married, but it's more that they _think_ they're in love, when they don't really understand what it is. Sansa did have a point in chapter 12 when she said that Arya and Steffon didn't understand love. Bear that in mind.**

 **Whew, long answer. Anyway, onto the story. Now a quick warning before we start: There is going to be some smut early on in this chapter. It's not plot critical, so feel free to skip it. However, I believe that it is a natural escalation for Steffon and Arya's relationship at this point.**

 _Dragonstone, the next morning_

Light gently filtered in the room Steffon and Arya were sharing. They were grateful that Stannis and Eddard had given them permission to share a room (Ned had done it via Jon). Although, Steffon was beginning to have second thoughts about that now. Seriously, there was no way Arya didn't feel that.

"Did you pull your dagger on me in the night, Steffon?" She asked teasingly. So she had felt it. Steffon shook his head frantically, his face turning bright red in embarrassment. They were in a fairly awkward position; well, it was awkward for Steffon. Arya's rear was pressed tightly against his groin, making the whole situation rather embarrassing for him. Then the worst possible thing happened.

She started moving against him.

Arya began moving her backside around his cock in tantalising circles. Steffon grabbed her hips tightly in response.

"Do you want me to stop Steffon?" She asked, not stopping her movements.

"No." Steffon managed to grunt out. She continued grinding against him, as he tentatively began returning her thrusts. Eventually, Arya, frustrated that Steffon was being so gentle, turned to face her betrothed and kissed him hard, before moving her kisses down his neck. Steffon groaned in pleasure, giving Arya enough of a window to climb on top and straddle him. "Whoah, Arya!" He growled out, his hands drifting instinctively to her hips.

"I'm not a porcelain cup Steffon; I won't shatter." She rasped in his ear, causing him to groan again. In an unthinking moment, Steffon thrust his hips upward, his clothed erection hitting Arya's center. All that was separating them was two pairs of thin breeches, and Steffon could clearly feel the warmth radiating from her, which sent vibrations all the way through him. Arya winced in pleasure, before grinding her hips downward. The couple both groaned quietly, as they began to speed up. Arya, taking control, set the pace, their hips rocking wildly against each other.

Minutes later, they both felt the pleasure building; both developing coils in their bellies. This only made them speed up though; lost in their world of pleasure. Moments later, Arya moaned his name, the coil in her belly shattering as she released. Steffon followed soon after, growling Arya's name as he released against his breeches. They hadn't had sex of course, but this was still . . . they both thought it unbelievable.

"That . . ." Steffon said, unable to string together a sentence.

" . . . was amazing." Finished Arya. The two lovers turned to each other, Steffon's blue ones meeting Arya's grey. They smiled, before kissing once again, in a tender, loving fashion; a sharp contrast to the hungry kisses that happened mere moments ago. The two broke apart, looking at each other lovingly. This was it; they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with each other now.

Just as the two were getting lost in each other's eyes, a knock on their door sounded.

"Steffon! Arya! Breakfast!" Shouted Jon from the other side, no doubt wanting to shield himself. The young lovers turned each other before breaking out in laughter. They took turns getting dressed behind the obscuring screens that had the Baratheon sigil as decoration (when it was Arya's turn, Steffon couldn't take his eyes off the silhouette of her body). Once they finished, they headed down to the Chamber of the Painted Table. The exact same group as last night was there. Right down to Matthos Seaworth. Jon, Barristan and Syrio kept an obedient guard outside the entrance.

"So, my Prince. Any plans for today?" Asked Davos.

"I was thinking I might just relax today. The crossing's beginning to hit me now." Steffon replied. Shireen giggled.

"Steffon, you get sick every time! Remember when we went on a trip around Dragonstone? I think you threw up about 9 times!" She said, causing Steffon to cringe inwardly. He'd hoped that she'd forgotten that.

"He wasn't much better this time!" Said Arya, "He vomited about 8 times. It was a miracle he didn't during our swordfighting!" She finished. the entire table, save for Stannis, Melisandre and Selyse laughed. It was a happy moment. Minutes later, they had finished their breakfast, only for a letter to arrive. The aide carrying it handed it to Stannis. After a few seconds of reading, the stone-faced Lord of Dragonstone spoke.

"It's from your father, Steffon. It would appear that Jaime Lannister has attacked Ned Stark." He said.

"That's not right! He can't do that!" Arya shouted, causing the entire table to look at her. "He can't just attack the Hand of the King in public! That's a crime!" She continued. As she was getting ready to shout again, Steffon gently placed his hand on her arm. She sat back down, albeit with a sour look on her face. Stannis continued.

"It appears that it was over Lord Tyrion being seized by your mother, Lady Arya." He said. Steffon, unlike Arya, was able to restrain himself, but was now seething with anger. _She can't just seize my uncle! That's a bloody crime, too!_ He thought. Furiously, Steffon left the room. Arya, having calmed down somewhat, chased after him.

"Steffon, wait!" She called. But Steffon wasn't listening. He marched into their room, and locked the door behind him. _Gods, he can be such a child,_ Arya thought. She sighed, and turned around to find Shireen behind her.

"Steffon usually acts like this when he's upset." The greyscale-afflicted girl said. "He doesn't like to take his anger out on others, so he locks himself in a room to be alone. You see, he doesn't trust himself not to hurt people. It may sound queer, but it's for the best. He tends to be very volatile when he's upset." She finished. This was punctuated by the sound of smashing glass in the next room.

 _Maybe I'll give him some time_

* * *

 _2 hours later_

Steffon finally emerged from the room to be engulfed in a massive hug from Arya. He wasn't sure what for, but he wasn't going to argue. He hugged the girl back, gently stroking her hair.

"Steffon," She began, "I . . . I do apologise for my mother. She can be a bit headstrong at times."

"What? Like you, Wolf Girl?" He asked, causing them to chuckle slightly. "Well, I'm sorry about my uncle Jaime, too. He knows he shouldn't have done that." Steffon replied.

"You sound like a scolding parent, Steffon." She said, smiling.

"Just practicing for the future, Arya." He said. Arya's eyes widened, as did Steffon's. "Let's pretend I never said that."

"Agreed"

* * *

 _King's Landing, evening_

Eddard Stark sat at the desk in his room, and opened the massive book that Pycelle had given him. It had been the last book Jon Arryn had read, and Ned had wondered why. Something was wrong here, and Ned intended to discover what it was.

He opened to the entry on House Baratheon, and began reading.

"Orys Baratheon, black of hair . . . Axell Baratheon, black of hair . . . Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair . . . Steffon Baratheon, father of Robert, Stannis and Renly, black of hair . . . Robert Baratheon, black of hair . . . Joffrey Baratheon, gold of hair." Ned stopped there, the realisation of the horrible truth hitting him with about as much subtlety as a battleaxe to the head.

 _The seed is strong._ Those had been Jon Arryn's final words. _The seed is strong._ Ned had wondered what it had meant, until now. All Baratheons had been black of hair, right down to Robert's secondborn son. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella though, were golden-haired instead. Ned paused there for a second. The black hair was clearly the dominant trait of House Baratheon. The eye colour had varied, but it was always black hair. Except for Joffrey Tommen and Myrcella. There was only one house worthy of marrying into a King's line who had golden hair as their main trait.

 _Oh Gods . . . it's true. It's all true._

 **And I'll end the chapter there. More will be coming over the next few days, so don't go anywhere. Also a reminder that the Q &A's still open until the end of next chapter, so please put up your questions in your review and I will answer them. **

**Auf wiedersehen, folks!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello and welcome this chapter!**

 **I know some people were disappointed in the short chapter I had last time around, but I am rushing them out fast.**

 **Anyway, final Q &A. Here we go.**

 **From StratosOmega:** **Will Steffon, Arya and Jon Join up with Robb when he starts going to war or will they be their own separate force? And one more if I may, how did you write the dialog for the first couple of chapters? Did you watch the first episodes over and over and copy what is said?**

 **To be honest, I expected this question. To a large extent, I did use the dialogue from the episodes themselves. However, watching the episodes again and again, while it would be great, would be very time consuming, so I have been using a website which has been very helpful in looking at the scripts for each episode. The rest was pieced together from views of the wiki and my own memory.**

 **As for the second part . . . you'll just have to wait and see. I'm keeping my cards close to my chest, at least publicly. If anyone wants details on future plot points, feel free to PM me.**

 **From Termin8r (seriously, this guy's awesome):** **A good couple often compliments each other, giving them an opportunity to grow as a character. So far we've seen that Arya's influence is making Steffon more steadfast and confident in himself. What exactly does Steffon do for Arya that makes her grow as a character?**

 **Okay, I was expecting this one too. Steffon's effects on Arya are already becoming somewhat more apparent: She's become quite warm in her affections to him, and as we saw from her first ever interaction with Stannis, she's at the very beginning of learning the value of keeping private thoughts and public sayings separate. She still has her outbursts, but this will develop further. The other effect that will become apparent as we move to the war is that she will become less impulsive, more restrained. Ultimately, Steffon's effects on her won't become apparent until we move into roughly Season 2, as personally, I felt that and Season 6 were the two seasons where our favourite little badass grew the most as a character.**

 **Edit: This chapter has been re-written. The reason for that being I wasn't happy with it when I put it up; a very personal tragedy occurred for me so my mind was elsewhere. Anyway, I have edited and re-written parts of the chapter. Hopefully it's better now**

Steffon and Jon were sparring in the courtyard of Dragonstone with Arya, Shireen and Davos observing. Stannis was currently attending to other business, as were Melisandre and Selyse. Arya and Jon could see that Steffon's swordfighting had visibly improved since he and Jon had been training together. Arya was also getting better with her Water Dance; she was now attending lessons with Syrio for at least two hours every day. Syrio had even said that if she continued doing well, he might introduce a parrying dagger to her training! She was excited and a bit nervous, but happy.

Steffon parried another strike from Jon before thrusting the point. Jon dodged the attack, before slamming his blade down on Steffon's and moving the pommel towards Steffon's face. Steffon however, anticipated it. He grabbed Jon's sword hand and pinned it to his side, and slashing the blade hard towards Jon's side. Jon dodged the blow, before wrenching his sword from Steffon's grip and slamming the pommel into his chest. Steffon staggered back. Jon then aimed a low attack at Steffon's legs, which connected, sending Steffon to the floor

"You're getting better, Steffon." Said Jon.

"Well I should be Jon; we have been training for a while. Still have a long way to go though" Steffon responded, getting up. Jon smiled in reply before putting his practice sword on the weapon rack.

"You do, but that's enough training for today, Steffon. We can get some more done tomorrow; hopefully you'll be even better."

"I hope I am Jon." Steffon replied, removing his padding and placing his sword on the rack. As Jon tidied up the area, Steffon walked over to Arya, enveloping her in a tight hug. The two broke the hug and kissed, their lips moving in a familiar rhythm before they were interrupted.

"Um . . . My Prince . . . there are children present." Said Davos, covering Shireen's eyes. The young lovers looked sheepishly at each other before leaving.

"And don't get up to too much funny business!" Jon shouted. Steffon and Arya both went beet red with embarrassment. They still hadn't told Jon about the events yesterday morning; and they sure hoped he didn't know.

The two wandered aimlessly through the castle, making idle chat as the walked. They couldn't wait to marry each other, but they had to wait, at least for another year. Suddenly, they were appraoched by Stannis.

"News from the mainland. Tywin Lannister's invaded the Riverlands; likely in retaliation for Catelyn Stark taking the Imp." He said to the two. _Okay, her taking TYrion was unwarranted, but a bloody war?! Catelyn Stark, you might be brave, but you're a fool_. Steffon thought. Arya tugged on his hand and led them back to their room before slamming the door shut behind them.

"Tell me you didn't know anything about this!" She shouted at him.

"Of course I didn't bloody know anything about it! How the fuck was I supposed to know my grandfather would invade your mother's homeland?! By the Seven, Arya, I might be smart, but I'm not a bloody clairvoyant! Moreover, your mother taking Tyrion was stupid. Just stupid. He's not like my uncle Jaime or Mother. He'd never hurt a child! I've known him all my life, and yes, he has done some questionable things, but he'd never hurt a child! Especially when his own niece had taken an interest in your brother!" Steffon shouted back.

"She was only doing what she thought was best Steffon!"

"Well she wasn't thinking too clearly then, because she fucked it up thoroughly enough to start _a bloody war!"_ Steffon shouted, before going silent. Arya looked hurt. Really hurt. "Arya, I didn't mean-"

"Just bugger off, Steffon. I've got better things to do right now." Arya said, before storming out of the room, leaving Steffon all alone.

 _What have I done?_ He thought

* * *

 _A garden in King's Landing_

Ned patiently sat waiting for Cersei on a bench in the garden. His dsicovery the previous night had been playing on his mind ever since; so much in fact that he found himself unable to sleep. _Thank the Gods Arya and Steffon are at Dragonstone for all this._ He thought.

"You're in pain, My Lord." Said a voice. Ned looked up to see the Queen approaching him.

"I've had worse, Your Grace."

"Perhaps it's time to go home. The South doesn't seem to agree with you." Cersei responded, her characteristic smug smirk on her face. Ned decided at that moment there was no point in delaying. he needed to be forthright with her.

"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for." He said. Cersei's face lost the smirk after that.

"Do you now, Lord Stark? Did you merely ask me here to pose me riddles?" She asked.

"Has Robert hit you like this before?" Ned asked, pointing to the red mark on her cheek.

"Jaime would've killed him if he did. My brother is worth a thousand times your friend." She responded. Time to go for the jugular, Ned decided.

"Your brother, or you lover?" He asked. Cersei's face twisted into a snarl now.

"THe Targaryens wed brother and sister for centuries; even before they ruled Westeros. Jaime and I came into this world together; we shared a womb togehter; we belong together." She defended.

"My son Bran saw you with him." The realisation hitting him. _Bran didn't fall; Ser Jaime pushed him!_

"Do you love your children, Lord Stark?" Cersei asked.

"With all my heart, Your Grace."

"No more than I love mine, My Lord."

"And apart from Steffon, they're all Jaime's."

"Yes. A mistake on my part. Robert forced himself on me one night and must have emptied himself inside me." Cersei explained.

"You've always hated Robert. Have you always hated Steffon too? Because he looks so much like him?" Ned asked. Cersei slapped him across the face.

"Don't you dare suggest that ever again, Lord Stark. Steffon is a fine son. In time, he will be one of the Known World's greatest military thinkers. His grasp of strategy is so great that even my father was impressed. His nature though . . . far too soft. It was to be Jaime's task to harden him up; make him wise to the ways of the world; but Barristan, the old fool, got to Steffon first. As for Robert, no. At first, I worshiped him. The dream of every woman and he was all mine. That night, when he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine, he whispered, 'Lyanna'. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living woman and he loved her more than me." She explained.

"When the King returns from his hunt, I will inform him. I can keep Myrcella safe in Winterfell, but you must leave with Joffrey and Tommen. Get as far away as you can with as many soldiers as you can, because Robert's wrath will follow you wherever you go." Ned warned.

"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?" Cersei asked. "You could have taken the throne for yourself 17 years ago. You could've climbed the steps yourself. Such a sad mistake."

"I've made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn't one of them."

"Oh but it was. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

* * *

 _The Wall_

Gendry and Sam were wandering close to the edge of the Wall. Sam was rambpling on about something. Whatever it was, Gendry wasn't paying attention. He was too busy peering over the edge. He was still amazed by the sheer size of the Wall. Seriously, who'd have thought that a 700-foot tall wall of ice would be the Realm's greatest defence? Certainly not Gendry. As a boy, he'd always fantasised about seeing a massive castle, but he had no doubt, that the Wall outdid every single castle in Westeros.

"Riders. We have to blow the horn." Said Sam, snapping Gendry from his train of thought. However, Gendry couldn't help but feel that something was odd. Why was there only one horse?

"Why is he alone?" Asked Gendry. Sam began to recite how many blasts from the horn meant what. "Wait, Sam, there's no rider. It's just the horse." Gendry said. The two looked at each other before rushing over to the elevator. Soon enough, they had reached the ground, Gendry feeling mildly calmed about the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet instead of ice. He'd been right though; it was a lone horse.

"Who's horse is that?" Asked Sam. Gendry looked closer, and to his horror, recognised it.

"That's Benjen Stark's horse. The First Ranger." Gendry said. Benjen Stark has been one of the few Night's Watch officers to look out for Gendry. Heck, he had even offered to help Gendry when he returned. Now though, he hadn't.

 _What happens now?_

* * *

Ned was walking down a hall with his new Guard Captain, Tomard, when he was interrupted by a rather distressed Renly.

"Ned, It's Robert. We were hunting . . . a boar . . ." Renly said, before motioning for Ned to follow him. Ned dismissed Tomard and followed Renly to the chamber Robert was laid up in. Robert then ordered everyone out except for Ned.

"Oh you damn fool." Ned said. "What happened?"

"Too much wine; missed my spear thrust. Got him back though; stuck my knife right through his brain. Make sure everyone gets a taste of him at the funeral." Robert said. "One last thing though. There's paper and ink on the table; write down what I say." Robert ordered, and Ned dutifully obeyed. As Ned handed the note over to Robert for signing, he really hoped that he wouldn't spot Ned's . . . wording of the letter. Thankfully, he didn't. "Give it to the Small Council. At least they'll say I did this one thing right." Robert said. Ned told Pycelle to give Robert Milk of the Poppy. On the way back to his chambers, Ned really hoped the wording wouldn't get anyone he cared about in trouble

* * *

The mood on Dragonstone meanwhile, was frosty. ever since their shouting match earlier in the morning, Steffon and Arya had been avoiding each other like the plague. It wasn't making life easier. Right now, Jon and Shireen were sitting in a solar playing Cyvasse. For all his vaunted expertise, Jon was repeatedly being beaten by the girl, only humiliating him more each time.

"It's definitely not going to make anyone's lives easier." Said Jon.

"I agree, Jon. Least of all, theirs. They can't avoid each other forever. We'll have to straighten them out sometime." Shireen replied.

"Well they're both as stubborn as anything. You have any ideas?" Jon asked. Shireen tapped her chin in thought.

"How about you talk to Arya and I'll talk to Steffon. Hopefully we can get them to put this aside." She said; a plan to which Jon quickly agreed. The two set out to opposite ends of the castle, with Shireen finding Steffon staring out at the sea.

"Steffon, I wanted to talk about this morning." She said gently.

"I've got nothing to say about it." Steffon answered testily.

"Well obviously it's not resolved. Yes, Arya blaming you for Lord Tywin's invasion of the Riverlands is stupid, but you didn't make the situation better. You basically blamed her mother for tarting a war. You can't see how that would hurt her?" Shireen asked. Steffon remained silent. He had no answer for that. "Exactly. Now be a man and go and apologise to her." Shireen said. Steffon reluctantly stood up and left the room they were in, secretly humiliated at submitting to his younger cousin.

At the other end of the castle, Jon was likewise challenging Arya.

"Arya, you can't blame him for starting a war; it was his grandfather's decision to invade the Riverlands." Jon said.

"He's still related to them! For all we know, he could be in on this! Jon, you saw his reaction when he found out that the Imp had been arrested by Mother!" Arya replied defensively.

"And how would you react if Robb had been arrested by the Lannisters?" Jon asked. Arya stuttered; she hadn't expected a question like that. "You'll not make your lives easier by disregarding each other. All couples fight; even Father and your mother. Learn how to have one, Arya. I suggest you find him and apologise." Said Jon. Aryta left the room reluctantly in search of Steffon.

The two eventually met in the Chamber of the Painted Table. After a few moments' silence, they embraced each other.

"I'm sorry Arya. I'm so sorry." Said Steffon, tears beginning to leak from his eye.

"I'm sorry too Steffon." Arya replied, likewise beginning to let tears fall. The two broke their hug before smashing their lips together. This kiss was full of love, passion and forgiveness, and they both knew it.

"I love you, my Wolf Girl."

"I love you too, my Stag Boy."

* * *

Ned had just gotten out of meetings with with Renly and Littlefinger. Renly had offered a hundred swords to prevent Cersei from taking the Iron Throne. Ned had been considering it, right up until Renly dismissed Steffon out of hand and saying that he was the rightful ruler instead. That had been cause enough for Ned to turn him down. The meeting with Baelish was a different matter. With the revelation that Steffon was the trueborn heir, Ned needed the Goldcloaks to secure Steffon's place as King. Despite his distaste for the matter, he needed Baelish and the Goldcloaks. Thankfully, Baelish had promised Catleyn that he would help Ned. There was no reason not to trust the man, especially since he had never been able to deny Cat anything. As of now, Ned had arrived outside the Throne Room to greet 'King' Joffrey and arrest him and Cersei.

"All is accomplished; the City Watch is yours." Said Baelish, approaching him with Varys.

"Will Lord Renly be joining us?" Asked Ned.

"I'm afraid he has fled the city, My Lord." Varys repsonded. "He rode through the Old Gate before dawn with Ser Loras Tyrell and 50 retainers."

"No matter." Ned replied. "We will make do without him." He then led the Small Council into the Throne Room, accompanied by around a dozen Stark Guardsmen.

"All hail King Joffrey of the House Baratheon!" Called out a herald, "First of His Name; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." The herald finished. Ned and the Councillors knelt before rising.

"I command the Council to make all preparations necessary for my coronation; I wished to be crowned within the fortnight. Today, I shall be accepting oaths of fealty from my loyal Councillors." Joffrey said.

"There is one matter to be settled first." Said Ned, handing Roberts letter to Cersei, who read out the letter before promptly tearing to shreds. "Those were the King's words." Said Ned in disbelief.

"We have a new King now, Lord Stark. You offered me counsel earlier, so now I shall return the courtesy. bend the knee, My Lord. Swear loyalty to my son and we shall allow you to live out your days in that grey waste you call home." She said.

"You have no claim to the throne." Ned said to Joffrey.

"Liar!" Joffrey shouted. Cersei commanded the Kingsguard to seize Ned, before Ned ordered his own men to not harm them. He then turned to Janos Slynt. "Lord Commander, take the Queen and her children into custody; escort them back to their chambers and keep them there under guard." He said. Slynt turned to his troops.

"Men of the Watch!" He shouted. The Goldcloaks lining the room leveled their pikes.

"I want no bloodshed." Ned begged, in one last attempt to avoid a fight."Tell your men to lay down their arms. No-one has to die." He said. An eerie calm settled over the Throne Room.

"NOW!" Cried Slynt. The Goldcloaks rammed their pikes through the Stark Guardsmen. The few that managed to get their weapons drawn were cut down by either Sandor Clegane or the Kingsguard. Baelish sneaked up behind Ned, before grabbing him and putting a dagger to his throat.

 _"I did warn you not to trust me"_

 **And there it is! No, we're getting into the nitty-gritty of everything now. War is not that far off, ladies and gentlemen. So, the Q &A is now closed, but I will be bringing it back sometime in the future.**

 **I should explain something about Shireen's reasoning in this chapter when she's explaining things to Steffon. Yes, Catelyn did start a war, but she underestimated Tywin, and expected he wouldn't start a war for the child he actively hates; either that or she was only thinking of her family (either one seems likely). Moreover, Arya loves her family dearly, and naturally was very hurt by Steffon implicating the war was entirely her mother's fault. You and I may agree that it indeed was, but Steffon was outright and blunt with it, very much implying that Catelyn was to blame for everything that went wrong. Besides, wouldn't you be offended if someone blamed your parents for starting a war?**

 **Also, I just uploaded a Star Wars story called In War and in Peace. Please take a look at it; drop a review, a favourite, a follow, whatever you want!**

 **Auf wiedersehen!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello and welcome this chapter!**

 **I'm writing this from New York because I'm on holidays at the moment. So far though, I liked San Francisco the best. Though that might change when we hit Orlando in a few days.**

 **By the way, I have a new movie recommendation: Hacksaw Ridge. Seriously, it's just awesome. Though I can't help but laugh that a film about Americans has a Brit in the starring role, Aussies as the main character's love interest, father, commander and enemy-turned-friend. Anyone else find that ironic?**

 **In any case, we are quite literally coming to the pointy end of this story, if you'll excuse the pun. So enjoy this chapter, and I hope to see you hang around for this story, cause it'll be a long one.**

 **I should also war that there'll be more smut at the end of this chapter.**

The Stark soldiers frantically tried to conduct a fighting retreat out of the keep but were being cut down left, right and center. Sandor Clegane kept cutting his way through the soldiers. A few of them desperately tried to form a line to defend the escaping Stark servants, but they hadn't been expecting combat, and were only wearing basic armour and carrying basic weapons. The Lannister forces on the other hand were in full armour and carrying weapons of war. A handful of knights were even among them.

Sansa and Septa Mordane were walking down a hallway within the Red Keep while this was happening. "She's so stupid." Said Sansa, referring to Arya. "She doesn't know what love even is."

"I agree she is too young, but she did go with Prince Steffon to Dragonstone. That was-" Mordane started, before she was cut off by the sound of swords clashing. :Go back to your room. Bar the doors and do not open them for anyone you do not know."

"What is it? What's happening?" Sansa asked, confused.

"Do as I told you. Run." Ordered Mordane. Sansa obeyed, hurrying off and narrowly avoiding the Lannister men-at-arms the confronted her Septa. She raced up to her room faster than she thought possible. Soon, she reached it. She fiddled with the lock for it before she heard trudging steps. She looked up to see the terrifying burnt face of Sandor Clegane, the Hound, approaching her.

"Stay away from me!" She squealed, frightened. "I'll tell my father! I'll tell the Queen!" She screamed.

"Who do you think sent me?"

* * *

Ned was languishing in the Black Cells below the Red Keep. Gods, it was dark in here. He couldn't even see his hand when he held it up. How long were they going to keep him down here? How long had it even been? Hours? Days? He had no way to tell. He then noticed a small light approaching him. As the light got closer he could that it was a person holding a torch. Varys.

"Lord Stark. You must be thirsty." Said Varys, pulling out a water skin

"Varys." Ned greeted, looking pointedly at the skin.

"I promise it isn't poisoned." Varys responded. Ned still refused to take the skin. "Why is it no-one ever trusts the eunuch?" He asked rhetorically, before taking a drink himself to prove that it wasn't poisoned. He then handed the skin to Ned, who took a long drink, despite Varys' warnings about making it last.

"What of my daughters?" Asked Ned. He wanted to know what had become of Sansa and Arya.

"Sansa remains in the capital as a captive of Cersei. To what end, even I do not know."

"And Arya?"

"Still on Dragonstone with her betrothed. The Queen has sent a letter demanding he return to King's Landing to renegotiate his betrothal with your daughter and to swear fealty to his brother." Varys explained. Ned chuckled at that.

"Steffon will never do anything like that. He hates his brother and he adores Arya. He wouldn't give her up for anything." Ned mused.

"You are correct, of course. But would he start a war over her? Make no mistake; if he does not acquiesce to his mother's demands, then it will be war." Varys said as he left. Ned had to think on that for a few moments. Yes, Steffon did adore Arya more than life itself, but even he must not want to start a war over her.

Ned shook those thoughts from his mind. Steffon wouldn't give her up.

 _I hope_

* * *

 _Dragonstone, later that day_

The raven arrived soon after midday with instructions that the message was only to be delivered to Steffon. Jon was puzzled as to why only Steffon was allowed to read it, but decided that it was Steffon's own business; not his. When Jon found him, Steffon was staring out over the port of Dragonstone, his arm around Arya's waist and her head resting on his shoulder.

"Steffon, pardon the interruption." Said Jon, handing the piece of paper to him. "From the Queen." Steffon took the paper.

"Thank you Jon." He said, before Jon turned around to leave.

"What is it, Steffon?" Asked Arya. Steffon's eyes trembled with anger as he read the letter aloud.

"' 'The father of your betrothed, Lord Stark, has attempted to seize the Iron Throne for himself, my son. We managed to stop him before he could though. You must return to King's Landing immediately; we need to not only discuss your betrothal to Lady Arya, but will also need you strategic skill in the war that will doubtless come. In loving regard, mother' " He read. Arya grew angry just hearing it.

"What does she mean?" She asked.

"Well take out all the sweet words, and she basically wants me to break my betrothal to you and aid them in fighting your brother Robb when he leads the Northerners south to free your father, which he will doubtless try to do." Steffon said. Arya was impressed with how he was able to discern the true nature of the letter that quickly, but she was worried too. " I saved the best to last, Arya." He said. She looked at him curiously. "Joffrey's declared himself King. They're demanding I swear fealty to him." Steffon explained. Arya's face lost colour at that.

"But . . . can he do that?" She asked.

"Our father's dead. He's next in line. I had no real choice." He answered. Arya's face dropped, then she registered that he'd said had instead of have.

"You said you had no choice. What does that mean? You haven't already done that, have you?" She asked, worried.

"Why would I? Your father would never want the throne for himself, Arya. We both know that." Said Steffon.

"So what will you do?"

"Well I have to go to King's Landing, but not to swear fealty to Joffrey. I'll go and collect Jon, Syrio and Barristan soon. We'll break your father out, then find out what's going on."

"That seems like a bad idea. Trying to free my father now will start a war."

"Your brother will be at war when he receives this message, Arya. I can demand Ned's safe release as dues for me aligning with Joffrey. If they don't then we break him out." Steffon said. Arya was amazed he'd formulated a plan that fast.

"Well, then I'm coming with you." Said Arya.

"Arya, it's too dangerous."

"I'm coming and that's it. I love you, Steffon, and you're not going into danger without me. Someone needs to watch your back no matter what." Arya said. Steffon sighed.

"I'm not going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?" He asked.

"Nope." She answered.

"Okay then. Just make sure you're close to me at all times, okay?"

"Okay." She replied. They both decided to wait a few more hours before leaving though; there were no ships currently available and they needed to mentally prepare. As the night began to descend over Dragonstone, Arya went up to their room. She wanted some time alone. She stared out over the sea from their room, and could vaguely see King's Landing on the horizon. They were going there tomorrow. They were going there to free her father. Hopefully she could convince Steffon to free her sister too. That is, if she was over her silly fantasies of Joffrey.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist from behind. "Scared about tomorrow?" Asked Steffon.

"Of course I'm scared Steffon, but I know you're more scared than I am."

"Is that so?" He asked jokingly.

"Yeah, it is." She replied. He laughed slightly before attaching his lips to her neck. Arya sighed contentedly, letting herself relax. "Are you trying to start something Steffon?" She asked as her eyes closed in pleasure.

"Always, Wolf Girl." He whispered in her ear. Arya shivered in response. As he delved down to her collarbone, the Stark girl arched her back, pressing her arse into Steffon's groin. He halted his actions for a millisecond, but that was long enough for Arya to turn around, shove him back on the bed and climb on top of him. Her hands slid under his thin tunic, causing Steffon to groan as her cold hands made contact with his torso and slid up ti his chest. He lifted his tunic off as Arya began kissing his neck. However, she didn't stop there. She continued kissing down; down his chest and his stomach, stopping dangerously short of his breeches. Then she did something he though she wouldn't do for a long time.

She tugged down his breeches, causing his cock to spring free. Arya studied it momentarily. "You know, I've never seen one of these before." Said Arya, sidling up to his ear to whisper in it. "It looks like it's ready for me to play with it." She whispered into his ear. Steffon groaned when he heard that. Where had she learned to talk like this?

"Arya, wait a moment, I don't want you to do anything you're not com-ooooooohhhhhhh" He groaned out as Arya grasped his cock.

"Believe me Steffon, I want to do this." She responded, looking at him seductively. She began stroking him, and any further protests deserted his mind as he groaned out her name. She changed her angle slightly, causing him to hiss in pleasure. She though she'd hurt him, but his face said otherwise. She began to speed up, causing him to groan loudly. Soon, Steffon was over the point of no return and hoarsely shouted her name as he released, some of the white liquid spilling onto her hand. Steffon hoarsely tried to regain his breath, still trying to recover from the storm of pleasure Arya had just given him. After a minute or so, he flipped them over so that he was on top.

"Right then, Wolf Girl. Payback time." He whispered in her ear before nibbling her earlobe. Arya moaned slightly. He then repaid her by kissing down her stomach, again stopping just short of her breeches. He ran his hand over her clothed slit, causing her to moan loudly.

"S-stop te-teasing me Steffon." She forced out.

"As you wish." Steffon responded, pulling her breeches down. He slid a finger inside her and began moving it in a 'come here' motion. Arya moaned loudly in response. Steffon knew that if he went too deep now, he would break her maidenhead, and he wasn't going to do that until their wedding night. He moved his other hand towards what his mother called the clitoris and began gently rubbing. Arya then did something she hadn't done since she was a little girl.

She screamed.

Her body convulsed and Arya saw stars as she climaxed. As she came down from her high, a thin coating of sweat emerged on her body. She suddenly felt very self-conscious. She slipped her breeches and tunic back on as Steffon did the same.

"Taht was even better than the other day, Arya." He said.

"I agree Steffon. You're so good at that."

"My mother gave me an awkward talk when I was 13. It was awkward for both of us." Said Steffon. Arya giggled slightly.

"My mother did the same thing when I turned 13 too." She replied. The two of them laughed before settling down to sleep.

 **And I'll end it there. So, Steffon's formulating a plan to get Ned out. Do you think he'll succeed? Just wait and see.**

 **We're off in Orlando tomorrow, so I might upload a chapter from there. Anyway, auf widersehen everyone!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello and welcome!**

 **So a lot of things have happened since my trip to the States. How was everyone's new year and Christmas? Mine was good for the most part. I had a spat with a crazy ex of mine, but that's just part of life.**

 **Anyway, I have nothing else to rattle on about, so let's get on with it!**

 **Tally-ho and chocks away, chaps!**

King's Landing seemed less welcoming somehow. With the purge of the Stark household in the city, Steffon realised that he would have to tread very, very carefully. This meant taking every single precaution possible. Which included disguising Arya as a boy; something she had not been happy about at all. Right now, she was sitting below the deck; her hair cut short. Steffon was sitting across from her. This only made the situation more awkward because Steffon had been the one to suggest disguising her as a boy in the first place.

"Why are you staring at me, Steffon?" She snapped.

"Um . . . just admiring you, Arya." He responded tentatively.

"No you're not. You're staring at my hair. I hate you for suggesting I go as a boy. Now I look even uglier than I did before."

"Arya, how many times must I say it? You're not ugly at all. I happen to think the exact opposite; you're absolutely stunning, Arya." He said tenderly. Arya's face softened slightly.

"I'm still not happy about this." She said.

"I wouldn't expect anything else, Wolf Girl." Steffon responded, heading up onto the deck. Arya stuck her tongue out at him, to which he laughed. Jon then walked down.

"Steffon, it's time." He said simply. Steffon nodded.

"I'll be up there shortly Jon." He replied before Jon headed back up. He turned to Arya. "Now, you remember your cover story?"

"Yes, yes. My name is Arry and I'm Ser Davos Seaworth's youngest son." She replied.

"Arya, you understand this is for your own good, right?"

"I know, I know. I just don't like it." She responded. The two then kissed; their last one while they were in King's Landing.

* * *

As they disembarked, they were welcomed by Janos Slynt and the Goldcloaks. _Fucking traitors,_ Steffon thought.

"Afternoon, Lord Slynt. Forgive me, I'd have thought my brother Joffrey, mother or uncle Jaime would've greeted me." Steffon said.

"The King and Dowager Queen have much business to attend to. Your uncle was taken prisoner by the traitorous Robb Stark not that long ago." Slynt replied. Now that got their attention. Robb Stark had marched south? _The boy has more guts than I imagined,_ thought Stannis. And if he had beaten Jaime Lannister, that meant he had outsmarted Tywin Lannister somehow. It was now imperative that they rescue Ned Stark; if for nothing else, it would win them good favour with the Northerners. "Both have requested private meetings with you, My Prince. Whom will you go to first?" Slynt asked.

"My brother I think. I must speak with him." Steffon answered. Slynt nodded, and led the group off. The Goldcloaks were watching them, nervously gripping the hilts of their swords, further solidifying Stannis' belief that they weren't soldiers. They hadn't even bothered to loosen their blades in case of trouble.

Soon enough, Steffon found himself alone with Joffrey in his brother's private solar. _This used to be father's_ he thought solemnly.

"Brother, I am happy you've returned!" Joffrey exclaimed, smiling. Steffon was easily able to point it out as fake.

"Let's cut to the chase, Joffrey. We've never liked each other, and we probably never will. Why did you ask me here?" He asked sternly. Joffrey's fake smile devolved into a frown after that.

"Brother, our enemies are arrayed heavily against us. The Tullys and Starks oppose us-"

"Correction, Joffrey, they oppose you. I'm to marry one of them soon." Steffon interrupted.

"As I was saying, traitors oppose my rule with force. I'm going to need men I can trust at my side." Joffrey said. Steffon raised an eyebrow.

"Are you offering me a command, Joffrey?" He asked. Joffrey nodded.

"Command over the forces opposing Renly. In exchange of course, for your oath of fealty." Joffrey said, smirking.

"And what do you plan to do with Lord Stark?" Asked Steffon.

"He's a traitor. Traitors must be dealt with." Joffrey replied, shrugging his shoulders. "And there's only one punishment for treason." Steffon's eyes widened at that.

"Lord Stark was only doing what he thought was right, Joffrey."

"HE IS A TRAITOR!" Roared his brother. "LOWER THAN A DOG!"

"Watch yourself, Joffrey. I'm to marry his daughter soon."

"I don't care! She's more valuable to me as a hostage than she is to you as a wife!" Joffrey shouted.

"Joffrey I'm warning you . . ."

"That little cunt will get what's coming to her." Joffrey said. Steffon threw a powerful punch, connecting with Joffrey's stomach. "I could have you executed for that." Joffrey wheezed.

"You can fucking try, you little shit, but I will never, _ever_ see Arya in chains. Not your chains; not mother's and certainly not grandfather's. She is to be my wife. If you lay a finger on her, you lose that finger." Steffon threatened, before leaving. No-one, not even his own blood, talked about Arya that way.

"So, how did it go?" Asked Jon, who had been standing guard with Meryn Trant outside the door.

"He offered me a bloody command." Steffon said. Jon scoffed.

"Really?"

"Yes, Jon, really. He offered me command of the forces opposing Renly. I rejected him outright, of course." Jon breathed a sigh of relief at that as Steffon headed towards the meeting with his mother, in her private solar. When he arrived, his mother was looking out over the port of King's Landing. Steffon's ship, the _Young Stag,_ was still docked, with a small group of Stannis' soldiers standing guard around it. Steffon had refused to allow the Goldcloaks to stand guard; he didn't trust them with Slynt at their helm.

"Beautiful, isn't it Steffon?" She asked, turning around; a goblet of wine in her hand.

"Yes mother. Why did you ask me here?"

"You never were one for small talk, my son. I'm sure Joff told you of his offer."

"Yes, and I rejected him. He wants to execute Lord Stark and make Arya a hostage. Do you honestly think I would consent to that?" Steffon asked. Cersei looked down, swirling her wine.

"He would never execute Lord Stark or make a hostage out of your betrothed."

"He seemed to imply that he would void our betrothal. Make me into one of his bargaining chips."

"Well let's be honest, the Stark girl is no great beauty, Steffon. Margaery Tyrell on the other hand . . ." She trailed off when she saw the look on Steffon's face. Despite what everyone thought of her, she dearly cared for Steffon.

"I will do us both a favour and pretend this meeting never happened. Good day, mother." He said, leaving the solar with Jon. As the two walked down the passages back to the courtyard of the Red Keep, they found themselves accosted by a squad of Lannister guardsmen.

"Prince Steffon, you are under arrest for assaulting the King!" One of them called. Jon thumbed his sword out slightly, making it looser in the scabbard and easier to draw.

"Wait a moment, Damien." Steffon said. The guardsmen in question grew angry at Steffon not using 'Ser' to address him. "Where is a Kingsguard? Shouldn't there be one with you? After all, you're not exactly the brightest spark around, are you?" Steffon said. Damien was growing angrier by the second. His hand went to his sword.

"King Joffrey said we had to bring you back. He didn't say that you had to be alive." Said Damien. As if on cue, the guardsmen drew their swords. Jon and Steffon looked at each other, before doing the same. Two of the guardsmen charged them head on. Big mistake. Jon simply sidestepped before slashing the back of his opponent's neck, while Steffon parried his opponent's blow before delivering a straight punch to the throat, followed up with a thrust through the throat. "Kill them!" shouted Damien, charging forward with the two other guardsmen. It was all too predictable. Damien dived directly for the Prince, while the other two took on Jon, who the Bastard of Winterfell easily defeated. Steffon parried Damien's strike before slamming the pommel into his head.

"Goodbye, Damien." Steffon said, tilting Damien's head back and slicing his throat open. "C'mon, Jon! We have to get out of here!"

* * *

Stannis, Davos, Barristan, Syrio and Arya were standing in the near-empty courtyard. Steffon had been inside for some time now. Who knew that meetings could go on this long? Suddenly, they were interrupted by Jon and Steffon charging into the courtyard with bloodied swords.

"We have to accelerate the plan to now. Davos, you and Barristan go and free Lord Stark. The rest of us will keep our way out clear. Go!" He shouted. Davos and Barristan raced off in the direction of the Black Cells while the others drew their swords.

"Get behind me, Arya." Said Steffon.

"If you gave me a weapon, I could help you fight!" she exclaimed.

"No, Arya." Steffon said sternly. Arya suddenly got behind him. Soon, Goldcloaks and Lannister soldiers were pouring into the courtyard. Thankfully, they were prepared. While Steffon, Jon, Davos and Stannis used their own techniques, Barristan and Syrio showed their mastery of the sword. Barristan expertly deflected blows from two Goldcloaks before killing them both, while Syrio used all of his expertise in the Water Dance to great effect, as the guardsmen and Goldcloaks were unused to the fighting style. As the last of their attackers fell, Steffon turned to the two master swordsmen. "Syrio, Barristan, come with me! We have to rescue Lord Stark!"

"We're with you, my Prince!" Shouted Barristan. Normally, getting to the Black Cells would take some time, but Steffon, with his knowledge of the Red Keep, was able to get them to the Cells. After managing to convince the somewhat half-witted gaoler that he was there to bring Eddard Stark out for execution, the man led them to the Black Cells. Steffon had been down here once or twice and absolutely hated it. The stench, the lack of light; these things and more got to him every time he came here.

" 'ere it is. Lord Stark's cell. I'lls just open the doors for ya." Said the gaoler. He did so, and Steffon turned to him.

"Thank you. Now for your reward, my good man." Said Steffon, turning briefly. Quickly, Steffon drew his dagger and drove it into the man's stomach, before pulling it out and sheathing it. "He would've given us away the first chance he got." Steffon said coldly. Barristan and Syrio shared looks of shock at the boy's lack of hesitation at killing.

"Prince Steffon, is that you?" Came a weary voice.

"Lord Stark! Yes it's me, my Lord. We're getting you out of here. Barristan, help him." Steffon ordered. With Barristan aiding Ned's movement, Syrio and Steffon stayed slightly ahead, making sure that they wouldn't get surprised. Soon enough, they surfaced.

"Prince Steffon, they are closing!" Syrio shouted as a squad of Goldcloaks approached. This time however, they were charging at full pelt. One of them crashed into Steffon, knocking him to the ground. The man stood over Steffon, ready to bring his sword down. Again, Steffon braced for the worst, only to hear a scream of pain from the Goldcloak and seeing a sword protruding from his chest. The Goldcloak fell to the side to reveal none other than Eddard Stark. Using a cudgel as an improvised cane, Stark was swinging his sword one-handed. Steffon had to admire the man's courage; his mental toughness, his ability to push through the no doubt searing pain. Soon, the Goldcloaks lay dead and they regrouped with Stannis, Jon, Davos and Arya.

"C'mon, we have to go!" Shouted Jon. They started fleeing, only to be ambushed by more Goldcloaks. Steffon deflected a blow from one and slashed him across the chest, before thrusting his sword through another. However, he was too focused on the close fighting to notice that one Goldcloak that was carrying a crossbow was aiming at him.

Eddard Stark didn't.

As quickly as he could manage, the Quiet Wolf shoved Steffon onto the ground just as the crossbowman loosed. The bolt lodged deep inside Ned's chest, sending him to the ground. Steffon finally noticed the crossbowman and charged him, knocking him to the ground. The boy quickly thrust his sword downwards. Finally, they were clear. he quickly rushed back to the group to see Eddard Stark lying on the ground, crossbow bolt protruding form a heavily bleeding wound.

"Arya, you listen to me." Said the dying Lord of Winterfell.

"Yes, father." said a crying Arya.

"You stay with Prince Steffon. He's a good man; he'll defend you with his life. You understand me?" He asked. Arya tearfully nodded. "And you, my Prince," he began, turning to Steffon, "You stay with my daughter no matter what, okay?"

"Yes, my Lord. Like you said, I'll give my life for hers if needs be." Steffon replied.

"Thank you. Stannis." He said. The Lord of Dragonstone bent down to the dying Northerner. Ned slapped a piece of paper into Stannis' hand. "It's true." He said. "Now go, all of you." No-one moved. "GO, DAMN YOU!" He shouted. Arya tearfully refused to leave, forcing Steffon and Syrion to drag her away.

"Good luck to you all." Ned muttered. Then the darkness enveloped him.

 **And I'll end it there. So, bit of a botched attempt really, wasn't it? And Steffon botched it himself no less. If only he'd been a bit more restrained . . . oh well. By the way, that scene of him punching Joffrey-it wasn't even planned. I just wrote it on the suggestion of a friend, who said it could be chalked up to Arya's influence.**

 **Anyway, soon we will be getting into the major battles that Steffon will fight; his political wars with those who nominally support him; and the theological debate currently infesting Dragonstone: The Faith of the Seven vs. Melisandre's Lord of Light.**

 **Auf wiedersehen!**


	18. Chapter 18

**So, I'm back. Thanks for the support everyone. I've been going through a really tough time but you have helped me a lot. Seriously, you guys are the best. So, I thought I'd reward you with another chapter of the story I love writing the most. It will only be a short one, but I'm trying to crank this out between my final assignments for university. Let's go!**

Steffon sat in a small cabin on the ship back to Dragonstone. He'd failed. More than that; he'd created a propaganda opportunity for his brother. He'd failed not just to rescue Lord Stark, but had done in a truly spectacular fashion. So far, he hadn't spoken to anyone; immediately after the failed raid, he'd locked himself in the cabin and stayed there. He couldn't even bear to look at Arya; he'd let her down, and he hated that feeling so much. H didn't like letting people down, but now, he'd done it to the person he cared about the most.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting his musings. "Steffon, it's Jon. May I come in?" He asked. Steffon sighed before unlocking the door. "You have us worried, Steffon. You haven't spoken to anyone at all since we left."

"There's a reason for that Jon."

"Steffon, Arya is inconsolable. The one person who might be able to calm her is you, yet you're sitting in here moping!"

""I'm not moping Jon!"

"Then what are you doing!?" Jon shouted. Steffon went silent at that. Maybe he was moping, but he had reason to do so. He let down Arya. "You need to put your self-pity aside for now Steffon. We're at war. Robb will have marched south by now, your uncle Renly has apparently fled King's Landing for Storm's End, and Stannis will have to raise his own men to defend you. This is war now Steffon, and because of your birth, people will be looking to you to lead them."

"I CAN'T JON!" Steffon shouted. "You saw what happened in King's Landing. The great Steffon Baratheon, battle strategist on par with Tywin Lannister, fails in his first military operation. I can't lead; I'm not meant to." He said, the last sentence coming out quietly. Stannis, who had heard the commotion, headed to the cabin himself. Despite his exterior, he did care for his nephew, and obviously, the failed raid had affected him badly.

"Steffon, this is the reality of command. I've led before, and it hurts to not be able to save your men. Sometimes though, sacrifices are necessary. I know that sounds callous, but it's true. The best we can do now is make sure Lord Stark did not die in vain. Like Jon said, there is war on the horizon. Your betrothed's brother marches on the Lannisters. Renly will gather the Reachmen and Stormlanders loyal to him, but for what purpose I do not know. We will have to raise men to defend ourselves after the raid in the capital. And Jon is right; people will be looking to you for leadership. You may not want that responsibility, but like it or not, you have it. Can you promise us here and now that you will do your best to lead?" Stannis said. Steffon was mildly stunned; he wasn't aware his famously stone-cold uncle had this side to him. Had he once been like Steffon? Had the men lost during the Siege of Storm's End all those years ago affected him that badly?

Reluctantly, Steffon nodded. Jon then led him to the cabin Arya was in. Steffon knocked.

"Arya? It's me, Steffon. Can I come in?" He asked. The door opened almost instantly and Arya's arms locked around him in a tight hug. She sobbed quietly into his shoulder. as Steffon rubbed her back. "I'm sorry Arya. It was my fault and-" a sharp crack echoed through the small corridor. Steffon raised his hand to a stinging right cheek.

"That was for all the self-loathing you did after we got back on the ship, you idiot." Sh said through her tears. Then, abruptly, she pulled him by his tunic into a kiss. "And that was for coming here." She said. She was still crying, but Steffon being here made her feel better.

"Arya, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry! It wasn't your fault, Steffon. It was your brother's fault. Not yours." She said. She hugged him again, and this time, Steffon's dams broke. Tears flowed from his eyes. He had never really known Lord Stark, but the man had been kind to him; understanding, too. Now he was gone.

The two cried together lying on the bed for a while before the tears dried.

After, Steffon headed to the door of the cabin, about to leave, when he felt Arya clasp his hand. "Stay with me, please

"Arya, it's not proper; it wouldn't be right." Steffon said.

"I need you here Steffon." She said. Relenting, Steffon laid down again, wrapping his arms around Arya. She settled her head into his shoulder. "Steffon?"

"Hmm?"

"If you tell anyone about that earlier, I will kill you."

 **Like I said, short one, but I just wanted to get back into the groove of things.**

 **Oh and, very special announcement. The Young Stag now has a TV Tropes page, courtesy of Termin8r, who is now officially the #1 Young Stag Fan. So you know, go take a look at it. Oh and, don't forget to spam him with thank you messages for it. Bye guys!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello and welcome to another chapter. So, Steffon gets some news he really didn't expect to hear in this chapter.**

Steffon looked over the table again. The Chamber of the Painted Table had been turned into a war room of sorts, with improvise icons represent the armies that were moving across the country. He looked at the Direwolf peice. Since returning to Dragonstone, he had learned that Robb had indeed led a Northern host south of the Neck, and had defeated Jaime and taken him prisoner. _A coup if ever there was one,_ Steffon thought. Robb had also relieved the Sige of Riverrun, gaining the allegiance of the Riverlords in the process. It appeared that Robb was building quite the army in the Riverlands. The question was, where to now?

"Robb's victory at Riverrun has shown Tywin he's not to be underestimated. Tywin knows he's been outsmarted, and he'll not make the same mistake again." Stannis said.

"Agreed, uncle. Grandfather is not fooled twice." Steffon said. He looked at the table again. "He'll head for Harrenhal. It occupies a central spot; that way he can respond if Renly or I make a move against King's Landing or if Robb advances on Casterly Rock."

"We need more men though." Jon said. Steffon rubbed his temples; that was the one blockage they kept hitting. They may have had the Royal Fleet, who were largely loyal to Stannis, but they only had 5,000 men at their most optimistic projections.

"Lord Tarth hasn't sent his men to Renly. The Marcher Lords are staying put as well. That alone is 10,000 men." Stannis said.

"Meaning Renly can only muster 18,000 Stormlanders. Still a majority, and we don't have any guarantee Tarth or the Marcher Lords will join us, especially since Beric Dondarrion is dead in the Riverlands. Do we have any intelligence on what Renly is planning?" Steffon asked. Stannis shook his head.

"No. He's gathering men to his banner. Best guess is that he's going to press his own claim to the Iron Throne. He has the men to do it; 80,000 Reachmen and 18,000 Stormlanders, that's nearly 100,000 men. Not to mention he has access to Tyrell coin-"

"Which means sellswords. Possibly the Golden Company. What of our reserves of coin?"

"Barely enough for a few thousand sellswords, and even that will leave us with minimal reserves." Stannis said. Steffon sighed again.

"Okay, well for now we need to fortify Dragonstone and shore up our naval defences. while we build a force. Send ravens to Lord Tarth and whoever is in charge at House Dondarrion-"

"Lord Edwyn, Lord Beric's son." Barristan supplied.

"Lord Edwyn. Right. Send ravens to him and Tarth offering them a reward of their choice for their backing."

"But you're not even claiming the Iron Throne, Steffon. Why would we need their support?" Jon asked.

"Maybe so, Jon, but we need to have backing in the event that Joffrey or Renly get it in their heads to attack us, which I would not put past them. Like I said, we fortify our position and await further developments. Thank you gentlemen, that will be all." He said. Stannis, Barristan and Jon began to file out of the room.

"So, are we going to war then, Stag Boy?" Arya asked. Steffon had let her in on the meeting on the condition that she stay quiet and observe.

"Not yet. We're going to see what happens first. Besides, your brother seems to be holding his own." Steffon said. The two laughed briefly. "There's actually been a raven from Renly. He wants me to meet him."

'Where?"

"Near Storm's End. Renly never had any great respect for me. Oh he cared for me, but he never respected me."

"Why?"

"Because he has an inflated opinion of himself. That, and he's always viewed me as a naive boy."

"My father would call you an idealist." Arya said quietly.

"And I'm not going to apologise for that, Wolf Girl."

"It's one of the things I love about you." She said tenderly. The two kissed gently before being interrupted by Stannis.

"Pardon me, Steffon. I have some news to share with you. In private." He said, looking pointedly at Arya.

"Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Arya."

"Very well. Steffon, to be blunt, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are not your brothers and sister." Stannis said. Steffon's face morphed into a look that said 'you can't be serious'.

"Of course he is, what are you talking about?"

"Steffon, your mother and uncle Ser Jaime are close."

"Of course they are; they;re brother and sister. I'm close with Tommen and Myrcella."

"I mean closer than that. Steffon, they . . . " Stannis trailed off. Steffon looked at him, puzzled, for a few more seconds before his face twisted into one of disbelief.

"No, I won't believe it. My mother and uncle may not have many morals, but the would never do that!" Steffon denied.

"Steffon, listen to me. Haven;t you ever wondered why you're the only child in that family with black hair?"

"I just assumed-"

"And why every Lannister is blonde?" Stannis asked. That was the question that broke him. Steffon staggered back, his legs failing him. Arya held him up. It was surprisingly easy, considering the height difference. _Guess I must be getting stronger,_ she thought.

"You're telling me t-that-"

"Yes. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are born of incest between your mother and uncle."

Steffon sat down, one hand on his forehead, trying to process the news. Stannis left the room, unsure of what else he could do.

"So, what now?" Arya asked.

 **Aaaand . . . . done. Bye!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Merry Christmas everyone! Thought I'd post this chapter as a Christmas present. It's the best i can do. I know the last chapter was bit disappointing, but but was necessary in order to set up the future story.**

Tywin looked at the piece of paper in his hands once again. This Young Wolf had deceived them, greatly. _It was hubris, I overestimated myself and underestimated him,_ Tywin thought. Maybe the 17 years of peace really had dulled his skill on the battlefield somewhat. Nevertheless, his thoughts remained focused on the present.

"They have my son." He said simply.

"The Stark boy seems less green than we'd hoped." Tyrion responded. A rare smart observation coming from this table, and from his own stunted dwarf of a son, no less.

"Is it true about Steffon and Renly?" Ser Addam Marbrand asked.

"Renly's gathering troops to his banner; all signs point to him crowning himself King. As for Steffon, he resides with his Stannis on Dragonstone, currently. The Royal Fleet has already sunk any scout vessels we send towards the island, and Stannis is gathering men to his side." Kevan explained. That was a troubling development to be sure. Yes, with the right amount of doctoring Steffon's rescue attempt could be made to look like the actions of a traitor, but the intervention of Stark's son had made things more complicated. _I shall have to send someone to King's Landing_.

"Perhaps we should sue for peace." Kevan added. Tyrion ppushed a cup off the table and watched it smash to the ground.

"There's your peace, uncle Kevan. The only person who could've reigned the Stark boy in was Steffon. Joffrey's done nothing but antagonize him instead. The constant harassment of Dragonstone will have only cemented his belief that we've unofficially declared war on him. You'll have a better chance of drinking from that cup, than bringing Robb Stark to the table now. He's winning, in case you hadn't noticed." He said. Tywin carefully considered his son's words, and came to the realization that they were true. There was something to be said for Joffrey, especially if the boy had indeed threatened Arya Stark like a letter from his daughter had mentioned.

Tywin heard bcikering beginning to break out again. "They have my son!" He thundered. "Get out, all of you. Tyrion, you stay." He said. Tyrion looked surprised. Tywin gestured for him to sit down and poured them wine. "You were right about Steffon. He was the one restraining influence that the Stark boy had left. If the threats Joffrey made are true, then we have little hope of using him as a mediator."

"The rescue attempt-"

"Has brought us nothing more than a temporary reprieve. Yes, Steffon acted rashly and created a good opportunity for us to exploit, but it has also removed any sense of loyalty he felt towards us. Trying to stop the rescue attempt was the stupid part." Tywin said, taking a sip of his wine. Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"How?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"If Ned Stark was alive, we could've used him to broker a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun, and we could've painted Steffon as a proven traitor and sent him up to the Wall. But now, madness. Madness and stupidity. Your sister's fault, mainly." He said. Tyrion came to a startling realization.

"You think that Steffon will declare himself King, don't you?"

"He has nothing to lose. His sense of loyalty to us is gone, the brother of his betrothed is already at war with us, and will nor doubt swear loyalty to him, and he has near-total naval superiority." Tywin explained. Tyrion realized his father was right. Even if they spun the rescue attempt to their favor, then it would only likely stop the Arryns from joining the war for him. "Ser Gregor will take 500 riders and light the Riverlands on fire. You will go to King's Landing." He said. THat got Tyrion's attention.

"And do what?"

"Rule. I know you sympathize with Steffon to some extent, but you still have loyalty to us. You will got there and serve as Hand of the King in my stead. You will bring that boy to heel and his mother if necessary. And if you hear any whiff of treason from Baelish, Varys, Pycelle-"

"Heads, spikes, walls." Tyrion finished. "But why not uncle Kevan? Why me?"

"You're my son." Tywin said simply.

"But my loyalty to Steffon-"

"Is not as strong as to your family. One more thing. That whore of yours will not be going to court with you."

* * *

Steffon again peered at the painted table, now with the proper figures on it. He had called a council, and currently with them were Stannis, Barristan, Lords Bar Emmon, Celtigar, and Dondarrion were present, along with Lord Tarth and Ser Justin Massey. The Table showed the situation as Steffon had anticipated it. The lions were around Harrenhal and Casterly Rock; the direwolves and trouts around Riverrun, and the stags and roses in the Reach.

"I'm impressed, my Prince. You have a deeper strategic understand than most men my age." Tarth said.

"It's only logical. Like said before, regrouping at Harrenhal means he can respond to Robb, Renly or myself." Steffon said. "Robb will need to take advantage of this. Press his attack. The best way to do keep my grandfather on the back foot is striking where it hurts: the gold mines. We take them, there go their revenue sources, and we gain the coin we need to bolster our ranks." He said. The nobles looked at him approvingly, impressed by his grasp of strategy.

"You also need to make a decision regarding Tommen and Myrcella." Stannis said. Steffon shot him a death glare. The two hadn't spoken since the truth was revealed, and even Arya had threatened to gut Stannis like a fish if he brought it up in her presence.

"We'll continue fortifying what we have now. You'll have my decision by nightfall, my lords. Thank you." He said. The nobles begun leaving the room before Steffon gestured for Stannis to stay. "You will not undermine me again, do you understand me, uncle?" He asked, tersely.

"With all due respect, you've been putting it off for too long. You're Robert and Cersei's only legitimate son. The Iron Throne is yours by right."

"I know, I know. I don't want to be King, though."

"What you want doesn't factor into it, Steffon. It is your duty." He said. Steffon nodded stiffly. Deep down, he knew his uncle was right. He was the only blood son of Robert and Cersei, and thus, the Throne fell to him.

"Pardon me, uncle. I must consult with Arya." He said, leaving the room. Minutes later, he arrived at the room that had been set aside for Arya to practice her Water Dance. He entered the room to the sound of wood cracking against wood as Syrio and Arya sparred. Syrio was the first to notice Steffon, and called a halt to th training, announcing they would resume on the morrow.

Steffon and Arya hugged each other tightly before Arya pulled away. "Steffon, what's wrong? You seem troubled." She said. _Only know each other for a few months and she can read me like a book,_ he thought.

"There's war, Arya. Your brother has defeated and captured my uncle Jaime in the Riverlands; my uncle Renly is gathering men in the Reach; my brother is searching for ways to kill me, and . . ."

"And what? Steffon, tell me." She said.

"Stannis is still saying I should claim the kingship." He let out. Arya groaned in exasperation.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. I would claim it, but-"

"But what?" She asked. Steffon sighed and walked to a window. Arya followed, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head against the back of his shoulder.

"I don't want to fight a war over a bloody metal chair. I don't want to see thousands of people killed. I don't want to see millions without homes. I don't want to be King, Arya." He said.

"Steffon, I know you don't, but you are next in line."

"The line of succession didn't matter during my father's rebellion."

"But it matters now! Steffon, your brother is going to get those thousands of people killed. Do you honestly think that Joffrey will be a good king?"

That was the question that got him.

In all honesty, no, he didn't believe it. He had seen enough of his brother's nature to know that he would not be a good ruler. The silence was all Arya needed to know. "My brother will support you, so will my uncle Edmure. Steffon, you're the best hope Westeros has for a bright future. The only way you can help people on the scale you want to help them, Steffon, is by becoming King" She said. Steffon turned around. When he looked in her eyes, all he saw was sincerity. She truly did believe those words. Steffon smiled.

"Okay." He kissed her. "Tonight."

That night, the assembled lords, knights and ladies on Dragonstone assembled in the Great Hall. Steffon stood at the front of the platform at the end of the hall, eschewing the lord's chair. Stannis stood beside him, as did Arya.. At end of the platform, Syrio stood guard. Barristan was at the other end, and Jon took up position in the middle.

"My lords, my ladies, hear me now. I have been . . . shirking my responsibilities. Our country is in grave danger. War now rages across the Riverlands. An illegal war, launched by my grandfather Tywin Lannister, in an attempt to destroy the House of Tully; the house of my betrothed's mother. This cannot be allowed to stand. However, it has also been brought to my attention that my father Robert, apart from myself, sired no natural born children with my mother, Cersei Lannister." He began. Gasps echosed around the Hall. "The children Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, are not legitimate, and thus have no claim to the Iron Throne!" He said. "These are the truths that Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Eddard Stark died for. Does anyone here doubt the honor of these men?" He asked. This time, the nobles stayed silent. Even Stark's enemies from the Rebellion 17 years ago couldn't deny that he was an honorable man. "With these in mind, my lords, my ladies, and good Sers, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. Will you give me your loyalty?" He asked. THe Hall stayed silent, and for a moment, Steffon thought he had failed. Then Lord Tarth stepped forward.

"I knew both Lord Arryn and Lord Stark." He began. "Neither man was known for lying or dishonesty. They would never lie about something of this magnitude." He drew his sword and laid it at Seffon's feet. "My sword is yours, Steffon of the House Baratheon, First of Your Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Ser Justin Massey was next, pledging his loyalty. Soon, all the lords and knights were swearing him their swords. He looked at Arya, who smiled lovingly at him, before drawing Needle and laying it at his feet. "You already know how I feel about this." She said. Next came Stannis, then Syrio and Barristan, and Jon last of all.

 _I'm the King,_ Steffon thought. _I'm the King._

* * *

Robb raised a hand to his head again, and pinched his nose. This conference had bee going on for hours, and they still hadn't decided what their next action would be. Hopefully they could reach a conclusion soon, and all got to sleep. It had been a long day, to say the least. They were still counting the casualties from the battles at the Whispering Wood and the Lannister camps around Riverrun. Hopefully, when Robb got the final report, the wouldn't be too severe.

"The proper course is clear." Lord Jonos Bracken said, for about the millionth time that night. "March south to King Renly and join his forces with ours."

"Renly is not the King." Said Robb. "He's only a brother of Robert, and the youngest one at that. Steffon is the rightful heir."

"But Steffon has not made any claim." Bracken protested. Another argument was beginning to break out when a Northern soldier handed a message to Robb. Robb opened the piece of paper and read it. "My lords, new information has come to light. In front of the Crownlands lords, Steffon laid calim to the Iron Throne. I would ask you to join me in declaring for him."

Another argument threatened to break out, before the Greatjon stepped in. "My lords, my lords! Here is what I say to two of those Kings." He spat on the ground, eliciting laughter from the Northerners. "Renly Baratheon mean nothing to me, and Joffrey the Bastard doesn't neither. We may not like being ruled from the south, but Steffon Baratheon is a different lad altogether. A man who is actually willing to fight and defend those under him; a rarity among his type." He said. Again, the Nrotherners laughed. Some Riverlords looked mildly offended. "And he has a good Northern girl at his side; the daughter of Eddard Stark! A man whose honor is unquestionable. Why shouldn't we follow him?" He asked. Silence. "I'll bend my knee to no King but Steffon Baratheon!" He cried. The Riverlords and Northerners drew their swords.

"Steffon! Steffon! Steffon!" They chanted.

At that moment, the people of the North and Riverlands had their King.

 **Bit of a longer chapter here, so i hope you like it. We are finally at the end of season 1, and now moving into the war phase. I for one am, as The Big Short's Jared Vennett would say, "Jacked to the tits!".**

 **Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah or whatever you celebrate, and have a wonderful 2018. Goodbye for now!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello and welcome to the newest chapter of this story!**

A noble's nameday was a pricey occasion, but one that always aroused the interest of the people, and the nameday of a King was even more impressive, and King Joffrey's nameday certainly was an impressive affair. Currently, Joffrey, along with Tomman and Sansa, were observing a duel between the Hound and another knight. The knight was obviously skilled, but the Hound was far stronger. He knocked the knight's shield away and shoved him off the wall, sending him crashing to the ground below.

"Well struck, dog." Joffrey said, as he turned to Sansa. "Did you like it?" he asked, a manic glee in his face.

"It was well struck, Your Grace." Sansa replied, almost automatically.

"I already said that." He replied testily.

"Yes, Your Grace." Again, the words came out of her mouth automatically. The announcer called for the next fight, but she wasn't listening. How had she ended up in this situation? She saw it now; she had been stupid. Deep down, she knew her only hope was that Robb or Steffon would take the city soon. Her attentios was grabbed again when Joffrey ordered Ser Meryn Trant and another Kingsgaurd knight to funnel wine into the mouth of the hapless, fat knight that she knew as Ser Dontos Hollard. "You can't!" She cried out, but as soo an she said it, she realised how feeble it sounded.

"Did you say I can't?" Joffrey asked angrily.

"Your Grace, I only meant it would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday." She said. Joffrey rolled his eyes.

"What kind of stupid superstition is that?" He snapped.

"It's true. What a man sows on his nameday, he reaps all year." The Hound said, having made his way up to them. Joffrey sighed.

"Fine. I'll have the fool killed tomorrow then." He said, making a dismissive gesture. At that moment, Sansa had an idea.

"He is. A fool-you're so clever to see it, Your Grace! He'll make a much better fool than knight; he doesn't deserve a quick death." She said. She saw Joffrey mull it over for a few seconds.

"Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day forward, you'll be my new fool."

"Oh thank you, Your Grace. My Lady." He said gratefully. As he was herded away, Sansa noticed a group of men that could've passed for Wildlings. Even more strange was the man leading them in.

"Beloved nephew!" Tyrion said. "We looked for you on the battlefield, but we couldn't find you."

"I've been ruling the kingdoms."

"And what a fine job you have done. Look at you!" He said, turning to Tommen. "You'll be as big as the Hound!" He exclaimed playfully. He turned around to be met with the Hound's same stoic expression. He doesn't like me very much."

"Really? Can't imagine why." The man next to Tyrion snarked. Tyrion walked up to Sansa.

"My Lady, I'm sorry for your loss." He said. Sansa smiled sadly.

"Her loss?!" Joffrey spluttered. "Her father was a traitor who was killed by the City Watch!"

"But still her father. Surely you can sympathise, having recently lost your own father. Possibly the one thing you and your brother on Dragonstone can agree upon. Anyway, I would love to stay, but I have places to go and things to do." He said, walking off.

"What things? Why are you here?" Joffrey called. He didn't get a reply.

* * *

Tyrion entered the Council chamber to find the entire Small Council assembled, obviously with Cersei heading the meeting. "More ravishing than ever, dear sister." He kissed her cheek. "War agrees with you. Do forgive the interruption; carry on." He said in a businesslike manner.

"Why are you here?" Cersei asked.

'What an adventure I've had. Pissed of the edge off the wall, slept in one of the famous Sky Clles, fought with the Hill Tribes of the Vale. So many adventures . . ." He trailed off, taking a glass and filling it with wine before taking a gulp.

"Why are you here?" Cersei asked again.

"I believe the Hand of the King is allowed to attend Council meetings."

"Our father is Hand of the King." She snapped.

"Yes, but in his absence…" Tyrion pulled a roll of paper from his belt before handing it to Varys. Unrolling the parchment, Varys read the letter before giving Cersei the news.

"Your father has named Lord Tyrion to serve as Hand in his stead while he fights in the war."

"Out! All of you out!" Cersei ordered, rising from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. As the small council left the room, Cersei fixed her glare at Tyrion, who stirred his glass of wine in his hand. "I would like to know how you tricked father into this." Tyrion scoffed before taking a sip of his wine.

"If I were capable of tricking our father I would be sitting on the Iron Throne myself, dear sister." He replied, casually. "You brought this on yourself."

"I've done nothing." Cersei replied, taking a seat close to her younger brother.

"For the North, you are quite right. But for Steffon, your own flesh and blood, you instructed him to choose his brother over the girl he loves. You should know by now that Steffon thinks far more for her than he does for you. Father has already come to the conclusion that Steffon will swear loyalty to Robb Stark, seeing how he is the brother of his betrothed, and there are reports that he already has."

Cersei scoffed. "Robb is a child."

"Who is winning a war against us." Tyrion interjected. "Do you understand that we are losing?"

"What do you know of warfare?" Cersei asked.

"None, I'm afraid." Tyrion answered. "But Steffon does. He learned from Lord Stannis and our father, after all."

Cersei mulled it over. _Father wouldn't do something like this without reason,_ she thought. _He never does._ "Joffrey is King."

"Joffrey is King." Tyrion repeated.

"You're only here to advise him."

"I'm only here to advise him. And if the King listens, he might get his uncle Jaime back." He said. That got his siter's attention.

"How?"

"You love your children. It's your one redeeming quality; that and your cheekbones. Myrcella is effectively a hostage in Winterfell at the moment. We trade Sansa for her."

"And Steffon?" She asked. Tyrion spotted concern in her eyes.

"You are genuinely worried about him, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. I'm living in a nightmare made real." She said, approaching a window. "Both my sons have declared themselves Kings and will go to war over that Throne. I would've at least expected Steffon to swear off killing Joffrey, but he didn't even give that."

"Why would he? You know that they've hated each other their whole lives." Tyrion replied. Cersei let out a sigh; it was true. Tyrion noticed something else. "You're not certain Joffrey will win, are you?" He asked. Cersei remained silent.

* * *

Once again, Steffon found himself standing over the painted table again, but this time, he was alone; candlelight and a jug of water his only company. He certainly felt safe enough; Jon was standing outside on guard, and he was certain that Ghost was with him, as much as the Direwolf had made himself invisible for the last few weeks. He poured himself another glass of water and studied the map again. It appeared that Robb was indeed starting to move his focus westward; hopefully he was going to hit the goldmines so they could secure the funds they badly needed.

"You're going to wrok yourself to death one day." A voice said. He looked up to see Arya slipping into the room. She was wearing a leather jerkin over what looked like a grey cotton dress that reached her knees, boots and a pair of tight pants that accentuted her long, shapely legs well. He decided he liked this Arya.

"Are you wearing a dress, Arya?" He asked, smirking.

"No! It's a long tunic." She said.

"Whatever you say, Wolf Girl."

"It is, you stupid Stag Boy!" She insisted.

"Right." Steffon said. Arya lightly punched his shoulder. "Revenge for you and Shireen teasing me over my seasickness." He smirked.

"You're as thick as two short planks." She snarked, making them both laugh as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Still planning for the war."

"Wars can be won or lost in the blink of an eye. Just look at my father's Rebellion." He sighed again. "Are you still sure about this? You'll be Queen, but you'll be sheltered; you won't be able to go anywhere without around 30 guards with you at all times; you'll have to bear children and-"

"Steffon, shut up. Yes, I might find it unbearable, but I'll do it for you because I love you. Besides, Nymeria was a warrior-Queen."

"And you want to be the next Nymeria?"

"There's no question about it. I will be the next warrior-Queen of Westeros. If you think I'm letting you go into battle without me, then you're even more stupid than I thought." She laughed. Shaking his head and smiling, Steffon turned his face to Arya and tilted her face up before pressing his lips into hers.

"I love you, Arya."

"And I love you, Steffon, but if you stay up here any longer, you'll tire yourself out then you'll be of no use to anyone." She said.

"You're right, Arya. Again."

"Of course I'm right, Stag boy" She said, taking his hand as they exited the chamber.

"You're dismissed for the night Jon." He said. Jon nodded gratefully and signalled for Ghost to follow him. Moments later, Steffon and Arya had reached their bedchamber and Arya disappeared behind the dressing screen to change while Steffon, using what privacy he could get, removed his own jerkin, doublet and trousers and changed into a cotton tunic and pants, all the while watching Arya's body move behind the screen, which she eventually emerged from in a plain grey shift. The two climbed into the bed, with Arya resting her head on Steffon's chest.

"Your heart's racing Steffon." She said.

"That's what you do to me, Arya." He replied. A devious idea entered her head.

"Well, if that's what I do to you now, just imagine what i can do with this." She said, grasping his cock. Steffon gasped as Arya let go.

"Seven hells, Arya."

"I can't wait until we're married." She said. A few months ago, she couldn't have even dreamt saying those words, but now she was certain.

"Neither can I, Arya. Neither can I." He said as sleep began to overtake them.

 **I know, not as good as you've come to expect from me, but I wanted a chapter that showcased how Cersei felt about Steffon and how Arya and Steffon's relationship has progressed. Again, bit of a slow chapter and not of the usual standard you've come to expect.**

 **By the way, I would like to give credit Termin8r for writing that confrontation between Cersei and Tyrion. I was struggling with it myself, and it definitely helped. Seriously, this guy's been awesome and has been constantly suggesting ways I can improve it and given me ideas for where to take the story. He's planning to publish his first Game of Thrones story soon. I've read his ideas for it and it sounds like he's got it nailed down. So when he publishes it, I'll notify you guys so you can head on over and drop a follow, favourite and review for him.**

 **Cheers, mates.**


	22. Chapter 22

**No I'm not dead; just insanely busy. But here is another chapter. Also, be sure to spam Termin8r with PMs. He's a been a huge help with this story so far and hopefully he can get his own story going soon. So you know, spam him.**

 **Anyway, we get another character this chapter. Different focus. So without further ado, let us begin!**

Edric Storm walked urgently through the halls of Storm's End. It had only been a week and a half since Renly left for Highgarden, yet he'd already declared himself king. Edric barged past another few guardsmen on his way to the main hall, where Ser Cortnay Penrose, the Storm's End Castellan would undoubtedly be waiting. He slammed open the doors and burst in, only to find Ser Cortnay poring over a map of the Stormlands alone.

"Ser Cortnay, tell me this isn't true." he said, holding up a piece of paper for him. Frowning, Penrosetook it and read it before nodding.

"Unfortunately, yes. Both Steffon and Renly have declared themselves King."

"So who do we side with?" Edric asked. "It has to be Steffon, right? I mean, if what he claims is ture, then that makes him the rightful King and Lord Renly a traitor." He said, a fire starting to glow within him.

"It's not that simple-"

"But it is! You know as well as I do that the eldest legitimate son inherits the father's title. The uncle doesn't even enter the sum." He said fiercely. Penrose looked at the boy in front of him. Not that he was much of a boy anymore; Edric was now 17, well-built and good with a sword. However, he was also young, and Penrose knew that with youth came recklessness.

"Edric, Renly has been the Lord of Storm's End for nearly two decades." He said calmly.

"Only because my father gave Lord Stannis Dragonstone instead." Edric replied.

"Perhaps, but . . . ah sod it. We'll both have our answer soon enough, I imagine." He said, pouring from a jug of water. "Edric, I understand your loyalty to Steffon. Truly, I do. But if we were to side with Renly, who is the Lord of this castle, what would stop you from taking a few men who also sympathise with him and opening the gates for his host?"

"You'll have that answer if you side with Renly." Edric said darkly before leaving the hall. Penrose sighed. Not for the first time; he found his loyalties conflicted. Renly was his liege lord, and yet, Edric had the right of it. If Steffon was indeed the rightful King, then Renly was committing treason. _Like I said, I'll have my answer soon enough;_ He thought. Suddenly, a guardsman came rushing in.

"Ser Cortnay, we've sighted ships on the horizon!"

 _Well that didn't take long._

* * *

"Ser Cortnay Penrose is loyal to Renly. You know that. It would be easier to just take the caslte in the night."

"I have faith that Edric will make him change his mind." Steffon said to his uncle. Just before leaving Dragonstone, Steffon had taken stock of the situation. He had 6000 men at most, and was taking a calculated risk by landing on Massey's Hook; he was counting on Renly to move ponderously in response to him. "Besides, even if Ser Cortnay decides to call Renly for help, we have a much smaller army than he does. We can move faster than he can."

"He has more cavalry than us." Stannis pointed out.

"A fact I'm well aware of, uncle. If he tries to speed ahead with his cavalry and leaves the rest of his army behind, well . . . my grandfather hammered into me that cavalry is useless unless supported by infantry." Steffon said. Tywin Lannister was as responsible as Stannis was for Steffon's skill at strategy, and that was one thing that Steffon did thank his grandfather for; if nothing else."Signal Lord Tarth to have his men ready for an opposed landing. If negotiations with Ser Cortnay go badly, we must be ready." he said. Stannis nodded and headed off.

At the front of the ship, Barristan, Jon and Syrio stood looking at the shoreline. "I remember the first time I had to invade a land by sea." Barristan said.

"You do?" Jon asked. Barristan nodded.

"Years ago, in the Stepstones. Not a good memory. Arrows killed most of us before we even got ashore. Those of us that did and were lucky enough to have horses moved inland. I got my first kill there; a Tyroshi mercenary. Lance through the heart. Some of us made it; a lot of us didn't." He said, his words full of sorrow. Syrio nodded.

"War is a terrible thing." He agreed. "Syrio Forel has fought many wars for Braavos, and still, it haunts my dreams."

"I've never been to war." Jon said, feeling like he was the odd one out.

"You've lived your life during the reign of the Stag. As far as the history of Westeros is concerned, it was a relatively peaceful time." Barristan turned to Jon. "You will see much fighting before this war is over. I pray that the burden does not become too much for you."

Below the deck, Arya was practicing her Water Dance in any spare space she could find. This time, it was the cabin she and Steffon shared. Thankfully, it was large and spacious, so she could avoid knocking anything over. _Hopefully._ She parried, feinted and lunged at her invisible opponent before deciding to take a break. She headed over to a small table and poured from a jug of water, panting the whole time.

"Well done, Wolf Girl." Steffon said, entering the cabin. "That Water Dance of yours is coming along pretty well."

"And how would you know that? You can't even fight properly with that." She said, pointing to the longsword stapped to his hip.

"Arya, you wound me." He said, smiling. "I'll have you know that Jon and Ser Barristan both think I'm coming along quite nicely." Arya shook her haid, smiling. "In all seriousness, Wolf Girl, you're doing very well."

"And if Ser Barristan and Jon think your swordfighting's improved, then it defintely has." Arya said, pecking Steffon on the lips. "So, what happens now?" She asked, seating herself on the bed and taking a sip of water.

"Well, we negotiate with Ser Cortnay Penrose; the Castellan for Storm's End. If the Gods are on my side, then he'll support me. If not, we head into the Kingswood and ambush Renly's army when he tries to move through there." He explained, sitting next to her. "Arya, the next few months likely won't be the most comfortable, so if you want to go back to Dragonstone-"

"Steffon, I love you, but shut up. I am not my sister; I can handle a few knocks." She said. Steffon smiled, but Arya saw straight away that it was a pained one. "Steffon, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Your sister is effectively a hostage in King's Landing. I could've tried to got her out, and i didn't." He said, looking at the ground.

"Do I need to slap you again?" She asked.

"Please don't."

"I will if I have to. New rule: no moping or feeling sorry for yourself. You're the King now; we can't afford that." She said. Steffon looked at her again and nodded resolutely.

"i can try."

"That's all i can ask for." She said, leaning in again before a soldier interrupted them.

"Beggin' your pardon, Your Grace, but a longboat's ready for you to go ashore." He said.

"Well, let's not keep Ser Cortnay waiting." Steffon replied.

* * *

The meeting point was a strip of sand a few hundred yards down from Storm's End in order to avoid the treacherous waters of Shipbreaker Bay. Ser Cortnay stood on the shoreline in full armour, with a sword and dagger hanging from his hip. Ser Gilbert Farring, the highest-ranking knight after Penrose, sttod next to him, likewise wearing all his arms and armour. Edric also stood with them, but was not wearing his armour, even if his still had his weapons.

The longboat carrying Steffon, Arya, Jon and Stannis beached itself on the sand and they pulled it in before approaching the three. "Ser Cortnay." Steffon said.

"Prince Steffon. We're honoured to have you return." Penrose replied.

"Ser Cortnay, this man is your King. You will address him as Your Grace." Stannis growled.

"Uncle . . ." Steffon pulled him back slightly. "Ser Cortnay, I understand that Renly is in Highgarden."

"That is true." Penrose replied reluctantly.

"Well if he's there, then it is obvious who he thinks is more important that the Stormlands, is it not?" he asked rhetorically. "If he wants the support of the Stormlords, then why is he with the Tyrells?" He asked.

"He makes a good point." Farring whispered to Penrose, only to receive a glare.

"Any smart man would seek Tyrell support." Penrose said to Steffon.

"Really? Even when some of his own houses have either not declared for him or declared against him? Lord Selwyn Tarth stands out there on those ships; he commands them in the absence of myself or Lord Stannis. The Marcher Lords have not yet declared for him and yet he is already off to seek allies?" He said. "What kind of man goes to one of the other Great Houses when he does not even have the backing of the entire region he controls?"

"Your father lacked the total support of the Stormlands when he rebelled against the Mad King."

"But uncle Renly is not my father." Steffon shot back. "Answer me this, Ser Cortnay: do you honestly think that Renly would be a good king? Put the line of succession aside for a moment and ask yourself that."

Despite himself, Penrose did think it over. _No, Renly would not be a good king. He's romanticised war and kingship too much; it would break him,_ he thought. But he was skeptical about Steffon as well. "And why would you be a better king than Renly?" He asked.

"Well, quite apart from the fact that I have the undivided support of two Great Houses and the Royal Fleet, I know my limits." Steffon said, his face softening. "I will readily admit that my knowledge of governance is only slightly above basic, and I know the people to reach out to."

Penrose thought it over again and realised that in al, the time he'd known him, Renly had never acknowledged that he wasn't much of a leader. Politician, yes, but not leader. "You make a good point, Your Grace. Perhaps we can discuss this further inside the castle?" Steffon nodded.

"I am relieved to have resolved this with no bloodshed, Ser Cortnay." He said.

"Likewise, Your Grace."

As the party started moving towards Storm's End, Edric decided to introduce himself to Arya. "Delighted to meet you. My name is Edric." He said, kissing her knuckle.

"I'm Arya. And if you do that again, I'll shove Needle through your chest." She said. Edric turned around to Steffon.

"Steffon, you certainly have a fine adviser here! Feisty and beautiful." He said. Arya growled.

"She is indeed both of those things, Edric." Steffon replied. "But the sooner you stop flirting with my betrothed, the less likely she is to gut you." He deadpanned. It took a moment for what Steffon said to register with Edric, but when he did, his jaw dropped.

"But . . . how . . . I didn't . . ." He stuttered, unable to form a sentence.

"Speechless, Edric? That's a first." Steffon said before interlocking his hand with Arya's. "Come on, Storm. We can talk about it inside."

 **Chapter done! Yes, Edric Storm is in this story.**

 **By the way, I'll be positng a cast list on my profile page soon, so be sure to check it out. See ya!**


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